


Torches for the Night

by Tee_Bee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birth, Emotional Growth, F/M, Forgiveness, Grief, Lost - Freeform, Memories, Memory Loss, Personal Growth, Reincarnation, Resentment, Soul-Searching, Targlings (ASoIaF), acknowledgment, admittance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 103,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tee_Bee/pseuds/Tee_Bee
Summary: Post S8Jon has come to terms with his actions, honor had brought him nothing but pain. Daenerys died at his hands to bring back the Targeryan name. He stole that from her, from himself, just to be exiled to barren lands, unappreciated exactly like her. But what if things happen for a reason?





	1. Pain

 

The image was blurry as heavy eyes tried to open, a sharp pain shot across their body.  
_A dream?_  
Shifting around their thoughts of where they were, all memories lost, nothing but darkness, a dull aching feeling.

Eyes closing again, the raw feeling not going away in the chest. Swallowing was hard, a thick parched movement inside their throat, reminding them of the pain that ravaged their body.

The silence so loud that the blood rushing through their veins could be confused with the roar of a river.

Instinctively sitting up, looking around still unable to see past the haziness as their eyes adjusted. Slowly taking in the images surrounding them.

A candle flickered nearby, casting a light that danced around the table it had been placed on. A small plume of incense curling around the candle light, making the blurriness linger longer in the darkness.

Near their feet a small brazier, dying. Its embers flickered in the grey coals, as a ruby would in the sun.

A deep breath caused their lungs to cough. Pain shot across their body again. A dry and raspy cough, left the taste of iron on their tongue. Lingering, as there was nothing to wash it away.

Glancing across the room, a rag laid near a barrel.

Slowly, crawling off the thin layer of hay, that was covered with a woven mat that they laid upon. Descending on a journey to the barrel. Each movement as agonizing as the last. Each one getting closer to the barrel.

Knees scraping across the gravely floors, palms pressing firmly on the ground, fingers gripping at the floor, pebbles digging into the soft skin.

Their pain wasn’t as crippling as the one inside their body.

Their head throbbing, lungs burning, eyes faintly opened.Tears stung with smoke on their cheeks. Everything was blurred.

Trying to focus enough to find the rag on the floor, their hand shot out. They grasped at the edge of the rag that laid strewn across the floor near the barrel. It was moist and cool to the touch.  
What may have been on it did not matter. Lifting it up, and pressing it against their forehead. Pushing themselves up, and scooting back against the cold wall.

Catching their breath, head tilting up with their eyes closed. Trying to think back, nothing but darkness came in their thoughts. The rag warming as it laid across their head.

A solemn feeling, crawling from the pit of their stomach, slowly consuming them. Their throat sore, trying to swallow again, nothing but dryness.

Their arm pulling up on the rim of the barrel, using everything within them to get on their knees again. Each movement as painful as the last. Pulling harder, pushing with the little strength in the legs.

Finally, upright enough to push themselves up on to the barrel, looking down its contents as all weight was put on their arms. Ripples formed in the water inside of it, the reflection distorted.

Quickly, they plunged their hands into the liquid inside. Cupping the cool liquid, as it dripped down their forearms. Bringing it up close to their eyes.. _water_.

Lowering it to their parched lips, a sweet and earthy taste replaced the one of iron on their tongue. Greedily, they plunged their hands back into the barrel, the movements repetitive.

Rushing in their ears, the pain in their throat each time more sharp, more vivid than the last; and yet the darkness still looming, with no memories to spare.

A throbbing pain, accompanied the sound rushing inside their head. As if they stood underneath a waterfall, swaying with each pulse and breath. Their knees giving out and back on them, letting their body push back into the wall, knees now curled under their chin, shifting into the corner between the wall and barrel, eyes closing again, a distant feeling at the base of their throat.. _grief_.


	2. Jon I

 

Everything was white around him, glistening in the light of the sun. Ahead of him was Tormund, talking with the other riders.

Jon did not care to joint the conversation , he was lost in his thoughts. Images flashed across his mind..he could almost hear her

 _the warmth of her lips, the silver strands of hair in his hands, her eyes closing_.

Time seemed to stand still, he took a deep breath, as if trying to remember her scent. The ache in his heart he knew all too well, it was nothing more than distant memories.

Tears swelled in his eyes as a lump grew in his throat, he clutched his right hand a sickness growing inside of him.

“Snow!” Tormund yelled “I think we should make camp here tonight!” He was a couple feet away mounted on his horse, coming back towards Jon

“The children are tired, and the women claim that their legs are about to give up”

Jon looked, women and children had gathered around. He looked past them at the blue casting on the snow covered ground. Yellow clouds glowing in front of a red sky, the sun shone bright like a fire burning in the sky.

Together, sky and earth looked as is they were one. Ever so slowly the sun burning dark on the west of the horizon. It’s descent making the colors bold, the bright red turning crimson with time.

 

_A flash of red stained gloves dampened his memories_

 

“Yes, let’s let them rest” Jon almost seemed to whisper

Tormund grabbed his reins and started to gather help to set camp, as he rode further away from Jon, his thoughts went back.

 _Her eyes closing, a small puff escaping her slightly parted lips, the dagger_. He shook his head, trying to shake that memory away.

He dismounted his horse and began to unsaddle. He was in a trance, everything instinctive and routine, no thought process in his movements.

Before long his tent had been pitched, and fire crackling near it.He looked around in the darkness, he was the furthest away from the group of wildlings he accompanied.

He sat on an old log to tend to his fire, remembering the warmth of her embrace, her voice calling him, asking him to join him

 _“Jon?”_ , He reached out to the voice, he could almost see her, feel her! His fingers trying to reach out for hers..

“Jon!”, It was Tormund again, he had broken the trance he was in. Realizing he had been reaching into the fire, the flames licking at his fingertips, the crackling almost talking to him as if telling him something he didn’t know.

“Jon.. I can see your in pain.. I know you loved her, no one could deny that.. but she’s gone now.. please come join us” Tormund looked at the other camps trying to entice him to join the group. Everyone was gathered around while they broke their nights fast.

He couldn't remember the last time he had ate anything.He tried answering, but the words barely seemed to come out.

“I can’t.. I do not have it in me, I cannot forget what I have done”

“You did what you thought was right Snow” Tormund replied. Almost as if he himself doubted what was right that Jon had done.

Jon could sense the doubt inside Tormund's voice.

“but was it?” Jon replied.

He stared into Tormunds eyes, as if searching for an answer that was not there.

“Only time can tell us what we do not know” the wildling responded.

Jon looked back into the fire, he prodded it with Longclaw making the embers crack and sparks flutter around him.The white wolf head pommel glowing in the fire.

He hated himself, how could he betray the woman he loved?and for what? the good of the realm?

He slowly got up from the log he sat on, placed his right hand on Tormund’s shoulder and faintly smiled. Patting Tormund, looking down towards the ground, slowly trudging away back to his tent.

There he dropped himself on the furs that covered the floors, closed his eyes knowing all to well of the dreams that would soon come.


	3. Tyrion I

_Cold air blew past, swirling around ash and snow from the ground. The roaring of the soldiers hoisting the black banner with the red three headed dragon embroidered in the center of it to place it against the ruins that where left of the red keep.. The sounds of steal against steal, and rock, the scent of iron, smoke and charred flesh. The cold nipping at the ears, nose and eyes. Looking up, a dragon flew past, leather wings flapping in the wind darkness taking over, the sounds growing distant._

_Blue eyes staring back, total darkness, and a cold chill down the spine. Turning around more eyes against the darkness. Red and glaring, the sound of a thousand wings flapping and nothing._

_Warmth suddenly enveloping everything that was dark, a flickering light so far away, a small cry, walking toward the light, feeling every step heavy, slow and unsteady._

_A screech in the dark, a faint whisper too far to hear._

Tyrion awoke gasping, feeling the heaviness lifting away. He reached for the goblet of wine still waiting nearby. He had seen this dream many times in the nights psast, each time closer to the light. It had begun no more than the fourth night after the destruction of Kings Landing during the dark moon. Tyrion noted it had been now been five moons since the first dream had begun with just the sound of wings flapping.  
He rose from his bed box and walked to the balcony that looked out to Kings Landing, he could feel the draft from where he stood seeping into his chambers. He took in the light from the moon that seemed to kiss everything it touched, the way it cast it’s blue spell made him think of Winterfell. Looking East Tyrion sighed, he remembered his times in some of the free cities. . he remembered Varys and standing near a large stair case leading up to Dany. Something stirred inside him, his stomach churned, and his chest felt tight.  
He took another swig of his goblet finishing every last drop of the bitter dry wine, walking back towards his bed box he felt the draft stirring around him. He glanced back towards the horizon, the wind whispering calling out to him, his mind telling him the sun would come up soon. He crawled under his thin sheets, feeling the stir in the wind cradling him back to sleep.

__The next morning awoken by the bright glare of the sun, Tyrion rose again. He felt tired, his sleepless nights where affecting him. His mind felt foggy, almost dream like. He called for his morning fast to be brought to him, he wasn’t in a particular mood to busy himself with discussions and debates that needed to be brought to the king's attention. He sat in silence as he sipped on his ale, each turn broken up with sweetened porridge. He took a piece of cheese that was still left on his plate and walked out of his chambers._ _

__It was still a wreckage of sorts, crumbled rocks and ash could still be seen in every nook of partially reconstructed castle. It no longer looked the same though, the halls where wider, and most stairs had been replaced with inclines of smooth stone and hallways that were wide enough to push the King around in various directions. In every corner, a post was jutting out of the walls for ravens to perch upon. He was thankfull the privy’s did not have any, yet the majority of them had small windows that were used to release the wretched odors emanating from inside. He wouldn’t be surprised if he ever did see a raven perched on those windows._ _

__Tyrion made his way around the curved corridors, a slow decline from his chambers. As he walked past a large solar, he found Bronn, sitting on a intricately decorated wooden chair, counting coins from the east quadrant of the city grounds. A new Tax had been implemented on the townsfolk, one which Tyrion had suggested be done to ensure a safer living for the people of Kings Landing. Yet, only a portion would go to that reform, much of it was being used for the construction of the castle grounds.  
“Tyrion!” Bronn called without looking up “come here” Bronn boomed.  
As he made his way to Bronn, he caught sight of the large map that covered the table Bronn sat on. Where it only used to display a United Westeros, now it showed the 6 Kingdoms and the Independent North, above it painted in white..The True north as Tormund used to say. Tyrion smiled at that thought, and he wondered _what he may be doing in that vast tundra, and if by chance he had seen the boy_..he quickly corrected his thought.. _he remembered Jon, no longer a boy but a man grown now_ Tyrion felt his stomach roil again, a pang in his heart. 

__Bronn Pushed some of the coin bags away, underneath them a partially sketched Essos starting to be carved in. “Do you know why the King has asked the cartographer to add the land of Essos to the map?” Bronn continued “I swear every time I come in here there is someone always touching the coin, moving it around, and making me start counting again, could he have chosen a different slab of wood to have them work on?!”  
Tyrion looked surprised, this was something he had not heard of. Stepping closer, he saw the freshly carved lands, running his fingers across the indentations and brushing over where Volantis would be.  
“Bronn, I am sure the King just wants a map of the known world!” Tyrion paused in thought, then continued “he probably thinks the same about where you do your work”, with that Tyrion turned his heals and hurriedly made his way through the corridors, down to the buttery. Looking around, he barked at a young servant girl to fetch him some wine. As she made her way back with a skin, he took it from her, and with a swift moment he tilted his head back pouring the much sweeter wine into his mouth. He had to find Sam, the last mention of those lands where when Bran had asked about Drogon, he wondered if Sam would be able to tell him more. 


	4. A memory

_Cccreeeeek_ groaned the oak door across the room. The soft slippers whispered against the cobbled floors. The door thudded back into place.

The sounds stirred them from their light sleep. Trying to make themselves smaller, they pulled against their legs. Tucking the knees even closer to their body, almost hidden behind them.

It was so dim, that the body walking across the room looked like a shadow. In their hand, a small candle flickering. Moving across the room, to bring back to life the fire in the brazier.

Only then did they stop, frozen in their place. In front of them was the empty mat, no longer holding someone. Turning slowly around, their eyes met. The light from the brazier reflecting off of their eyes. A flame growing in their reflections.

The woman spoke, keeping her distance “I see you have awakened”, still crouched by the brazier “Do you remember how you got here?”

In the darkened corner, they shifted uneasily. Thinking back as hard as they could, yet nothing seemed to come. Yet, there was something oddly familiar about this person; there was comfort feeling this.

“Where am I?” their voice so quiet and raspy asking the woman.

The woman creeped forward, but still keeping her distance “you are where you need to be” she took a pause, looked deep into their eyes “when you are ready you will know”

Slowly she stood up, the brazier now bright with fire. The woman wore a silken gown, too dark to tell of what shade. She walked up to them, a hand outstretched. “stand up” she firmly said.

With that, their hand reached out to grasp the woman’s outstretched hand. It was hot, they thought while pulling themselves up. Pain shot out from their body, weak and unsteady. Standing there, staring at her, looking for answers.

“come” with that, the woman tugged at their hand leading them out of the warm room.

Outside, just as dimly lit. Torches flickered down the corridors in both directions. With each heavy step, a dull pain lingered. It seemed as if the flames talked, whispering, dancing inside the torches.

_Dancing_ , they thought. A shiver went down their spine. A quick flash of a tent sparked through their mind. A gasp escaped, a stabbing pain at their chest.

The woman stopped, looked back and said “they speak, and the truth you will see”

_What did she mean by this?_ They thought to themselves, as they walked further away from the room. It now was so far back, that it could no longer be visible.

A low humming could be heard as they turned into a large archway. There two doors that toward in front of them. The pulls where large iron rods, against the beaten wood. The iron and wood showed the marks that only years of use could create.

The woman pulled on the doors, guiding them inside. There, inside the large hall; the woman’s gown shown a deep crimson color. Complete silence loomed around, everyone stared at them.

Under the gaze of those around, their chest tightened; a sharp pain searing though. Looking down at themselves, a cotton gown covered their body. Holding themselves, noticing some rusted spots around their chest. Remembering the cool rag, was it stained rusted too? They could not remember.

The woman had eyes, bright like emeralds and dark hair that swooped past her waist. She was small in stature, so she moved forward and spoke “Zȳhys ōñoso jehikagon Āeksiot epi, se gīs hen sȳndrorro jemagon” her voice carrying through the hall.


	5. Jon II

_Fire burned everywhere, crackling, popping and hissing from its flames. There was nowhere to hide. The screams ringing in his ears. Blood dripping down his face, as he panted heavily. He was surrounded. If he stayed he would join the chorus of screams._

_He stepped through the flames, heat searing though his body. Suddenly, nothing but darkness. He called for her “Dany!” Walking into the shadows calling for her “Dany please!” Pleading “I’m so sorry Dany”._

_He fell to his knees, sobbing, beating his fists against the blackness that surrounded him. Then he heard it._

_“It’s time to return” whispers surrounded him, growing louder and louder “Return!”_

_He yelled back “I cannot go back!”_

_Silence returned, a small fire burned not to far in the distance. He got off his knees and walked towards it. It taunted him, quivering, dancing, entrancing him._

_Jon reached out to it, and as he did it grew a blaze. It roared, spitting out at him, crackling fiercely. Inside smaller blue flame, quickening with each pulse of the main flame._

_“You need to return” a voice said._

_He spun around, in front of him stood Ygritte. She had the saddest smile on her face. He could see a tear forming and the corners of her eyes. Before he reached up to touch her, he stopped; he looked back at the flames._

_“Is this a dream?” He quietly asked her._

_Everything still dark around, the flames quieting down._

_“You know nothing Jon Snow” she spoke up_

Jon snapped out of his dream, he looked around his tent. Moonlight pouring into his tent. The flap had pushed open and rustled with the wind.

He still donned his heavy cloak and furs. Stepping out of his tent he saw the previously robust fire had now shrunk in size. It still emitted a warm glow around it, Jon sighed.

“What are you telling me” he asked into the plume of smoke. Knowing full well he was not going to get an answer.

A familiar face creeped up next to him, it was Ghost.

He nuzzled Jon, staring at him, pressing his cold wet nose against his chest. He pushed hard against Jon, looking up at him. He tugged on Jon’s sleeve, pulling him. A reminiscent smile forming, almost invisible if you happened to blink.

Jon tilted his head up towards the moon, listening to the song of the night. How many moons had he seen since Dany had gone he wondered. 

Jon sat with Ghost, both staring off to the vast open plains. He wondered, how life could have been different.

“It still doesn’t feel right” He told Ghost.


	6. Tyrion II

 

His short stubby legs were walking at a brisk pace. Trying to hide his need to run, not that he could do so even if he wanted. It was more of a waddle, nothing graceful about his stride.

He no longer recognized this castle. He ran through it like a maze, some paths leading him to dead ends, while others brought him back to where he began.

The inner parapets where full of ravens, staring down at him as he hurriedly scrambled about. He really disliked the thought of having eyes on him at all times.

“And I thought Daenery's was distrustful” he muttered to himself in a low voice.

He Could see the Maester's tower through the Embrasures. Tyrion made hisway down a narrow stairway that still stood from from. It lead down to the upper west bailey.

Blacksmiths, cooks, storekeepers, stable hands, all bustling about. Tyrion pushed through, hoping that the ravens had lost sight of him betwee. the madness. Reaching the Tower’s entrance, he made way back up the large spiraling Staircase.

Inside the highest point of the tower, in a room full of books and curiosities; was Sam.

Clearing his throat, Tyrion entered

"ahem, I hope I am not catching you at a bad time."

Sam, who had been quietly penning on some parchment paper; turned slowly around. If Tyrion, had not been paying very close attention to his surroundings, he wouldn't have noticed Sam sliding the parchment

under some books..

"It is never a bad time to come to me, Lord Tyrion" Sam politely answered.

“I have been thinking lately, Maester Tarly" Tyrion explained

"would you mind clarifying some things for me" Tyrion had to tread carefullywith his following question

“Why did you tell Jon about his parentage before the battle of

Winterfell?” Tyrion inquisitively asked.

“Bran said it was the right time to tell him” Sam responded, knowing full well Tyrion did not just ask questions without putting much thought into asking them.

“and why did the Children of the Forest create the Knight King?” Tyrion prodded.

“To protect them from the first men” Sam cautiously replied what did this have to do with Jon, sam wondered

“How long did Bran know of Jon’s parentage? Or even yourself? And why not tell him Jon during a different time?” Tyrion inquires

"He knew long before I did, before Jon arrived at Winterfell” Sam retorted

“I would have never of known if it wasn't for Gilly reading High

Septon Maynard's Diary" Sam shyly expressed "At first he thought John was just a Targareyan bastard instead of a Snow.. If I wouldn’t have told him he would have never gone back in his visions to confirm this truth"

They both sat in silence, thinking about the everything that had transpired in the last moons. Sam, twiddled his finger nervously. Sweat started to form on his brow.

"When I rescued Gilly from her father, The Night King was taking all of Crasters son's" he paused, his voice cracked " Little Sam, he.. he

.. would have been taken if it had not been for Jon knowing what Craster did with his sons",

he stopped eyes frozen in frightening terror

"there were crows many of them, so many! they looked at us, they cawed and pecked and chased us" Sam held his fingers tightly with each other , "I can see him still, falling to his knees, looking at me as he died, and then his icy pale body shattered"

Tyrion placed his thumb under his chin, playing with the tuft of hair that grew on it, pacing in circles trying to understand what Sam had said.

"Tyrion?"... Sam croaked as he swallowed hard "the Night King did not die the same way when Arya stabbed him in his chest, he just shattered... but he did not feel any pain" recalling what Arya had said to them.

Tyrion stopped, slowly looked up at Sam remembering what Dany had once told him about her visit to the house of the Undying. He repeated what she told him in a low and ominous voice

"A long stone table filled the room and above it floated a human heart, it was swollen and blue with corruption, yet still alive"

his eyes locking into Sams.

"Drogon tore the heart into ribbons of its rotten flesh in Daenary’s visions"

He fumbled around with his thoughts, he looked toward the ground, and remembered _A very small man can cast a very large shadow_

Varys's voice echoed in his head,

_but things can hide in the shadows, and when the sun finally sets the darkness comes _Tyrion thought to himself._ _

 

 

"Hes not dead is he?" Sam had finally gathered enough courage to say his thoughts out loud.

Tyrion nodded, his lips tight, afraid of answering.

“Do you think Bran has send Jon to his death in the North?” Sam prodded, afraid for his friend.

“I am afraid I do not know what our King has planned for Jon” Tyrion wavered to think his actions had cast the downfall of the Targaryen King and Queen, the rightful heirs of the seven kingdoms; and in place granted the coronation of an usurper. _Was Bran planning something sinister all along? He couldn’t..could he?_

Sam, pulled on the parchment that he had slid underneath the book. He was ashamed for what he had penned, yet something that Tyrion said made him feel comfortable enough to show him.


	7. A prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration came from listening to the track Pray by Matt Bellamy.
> 
>   
>   Play  
> 

 

 

Candles burned around the hall, tall and short, wide and thin, non remained still, each flame was held aloft by their burning wick. They swayed in a way that the great hall was a sea of light, together and separate and at the same time.  
A red wave rolled in front of the woman in the crimson gown; as each servant of this temple dropped to their knees. Their hands raised up to the air in unison, and hummed

“We beg the Lord to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out.  
From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life.”

They looked into their direction, but saw through the woman beside her and deep into their soul. A distant image burned through the mind _drop of snow melting on their face, the taste of salt lingering on their lips, pain throbbing and burning, and a distant cry so loud it could pierce the sky...and a man with eyes wet and full of sorrow_ She remembered this.

“Did you see something?” The woman spoke in a soothing voice, she could see inside her, it was not a question but a confirmation of truth.

She did not know how to respond, she did see something _her mind rushed with memories, rushing like a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. So vivid, and dense she could wade into them and let them carry her so far back to a place where the ghosts and sins of her present could be of memories that had yet to become_

“How?” Was all she could muster up to say, he voice still parched and raspy.

“Everyone is what they are and where they are for a reason. Terrible things happen for a reason” she put her hand out touching Daneary’s chest “But what that reason is, only the Lord of Light knows” Kinvara answered her.

Daneary’s never had believed in any gods, she never had a faith, or myths and legends. The only time she came close to having any inkling on something other than herself was when she had seen Jon’s chest.  
_He had scars so deep, pale and rough to the touch, where his life had been drained from inside him_ She felt at her chest at the thought of Jon’s scars, pain still seared through her body. It burned as an iron would on flesh, so strong was the pain it made her gasp.

“Let’s get you in something not stained with blood” Kinvara quickly motioned for two servants

“Draw her a bath and tend to her wound” turning back to Daneary’s she looked wondering what the Red God had in mind  
“I will meet you in your chambers after you have been tended too” she made her way out to the great fire near the other servants of the lord. She had many questions that still needed answering.

Daneary’s was guided back through the darkened corridors with flickering torche’s. They still danced and flickered with knowledge she did not yet understand.

This time she was taken to a new room. It was larger than the other and circular in shape. In the middle of it, a pool steaming, forming a white mist of water droplets in the air.Three small windows inside the domed towering ceiling cascaded ribbons of light into the room. The room shimmered, as the sun kissed the mist that floated, forming small waterfalls as they ran down the walls. The servant girl helped Dany undress, carefully lifting her stained gown above her head as dany winced at having to raise her arms. She looked down, her knuckles going white as she balled her hands. A long jagged scar snaked down the middle of her chest. It was an odd mixture of bright red and light pink. The skin around the scar was also slightly discolored, and it reminded Dany of Jon's brutalized body, he also bore the betrayals on his chest. She slowly un-clenched one of her hands and lightly brushed it down the scar, tracing the jagged line slowly with the tips of her fingers. She sighed and averted her gaze, biting her lip as she walked down to the inviting pool.

Once she had seated at the edge of the pool, the girl began to wash Dany. She scrubbed her milky white skin, with a sea sponge that had been dipped in soap made from rose water and cloves. A wash basin collected the dirtied water, turning red with each rinse from the sponge. The girls hand trembled, she kept her black sapphire eyes averted as much as she could. She was of a young age, somewhere around her thirteenth year. She had a small figure, with skin that paled beside hair the color of the night sky.  
"What is your name?" Dany coaxed the girl to talk, she knew she was nervous around Dany. She remembered herself at that age, vulnerable and without someone to comfort her.  
"My name..is Alaine.. m’Lday" the girl stuttered for her words to come out.


	8. Jon III

 

In the cold light of the day, the morning crept up, Jon could see what he had become. His head throbbed; he felt as no more than a flame in the wind, and not like the fire that he had been once, just a shadow of a man, a dying light.

The cold nipped at Jon, he had not shaved since leaving Winterfell and the frost clung to his hair on his lip. He had removed his black cloak, thinking of every quarrel he’d taken since donning the outfit of the crow  
_All crows are liars_ Jon remembered Old Nan telling him. She had been around so long; and Jon wondered what may have caused her loathing for the ravens . Then only for a what seemed to take to the time to breath in the air, did he agree that crows where liars. If it had not been for the cold bite, Jon would not have noticed this action at all, each breath so dry as the elevation silenced the moisture in the air; it caused his headache to grow.  
   
“Don’t make me change my mind Snow, Im beginning to think your southern blood doesn’t do so well in the cold” Tormund bellowed  
   
Jon stood up, wetness had seeped through his furs. He knew he couldn’t take back what he had done, and with everything that had come to light, his will to live dwindled with every passing day. Looking at Tormund, reminded Jon of the times he enjoyed being alive.

His friend reached out and grabbed Jon, wrapped his arms around him pushing Jon’s face against his broad chest. Jon faltered at the closeness, He pushed back on his friends affection, straightening himself. It had been long since he had shared a moment like this with another man, was it when he said goodbye to Robb? He did love Tormund as his closest friend, and even so he did not want to be thought of as the Knight of Flowers.

Tormund still had Jon held by his shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes searching for the old Jon, the King of the North  
“I once told you that if you lie to me, I'll pull your guts out through your throat, start talking little crow I’m not here holding you because I suddenly decided to see that small pecker of yours”

Jon slightly curled his lip, and yet being called a crow made him ill at the thought _I am ... the shield that guards the realms of men..I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come_ he thought that by dying his watch had ended. Though it seemed the Old Gods didn’t see it that way, they had other plans for him. He had been given his life back, ....and somehow “I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children” the words escaped from his lips.

Tormund shifted uneasily, he released Jon, then pensively put his hand on his hips. “You shall wear no crowns and win no glory. You shall live and die at your post..Little crow, we have herd these words said many moons by different birds, and yet..” Tormund was interrupted by Jon  
“I think that we both know the way that the story ends” Jon snarled  
“And yet you died at your post, woke from the dead, became Lord Commander, became The King in the North, and had your Glory..as Jon Snow” Tormund slowed down letting Jon truly hear what he was going to say next “Your right Jon, she is dead that story is over and with it that man Jon Snow.. now let’s hear Aegon Targaryen’s song”

He understood, and knew what he had to do. “I cannot ask this of you brother, and yet I must ask if you would ride with me south once again? Tormund curled his lips, one side pushing up on his eye left as his cheeks rose up. He could see the answer, and feel it as well as Tormund firmly patted his back. “And please, my name is still Jon.. Targaryen”

“First of his name” Tormund chuckled. Jon would never be happy as he had been with Daenary’s, he had to make things right. She had fought to bring their family name back to Westeros. Gave up her children for the living, and no one saw her struggles or acknowledged her sacrifices. In that moment he understood what Maester Aemon told him _“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing,” _Dany had been alone, and Jon’s cowardice was the death of her _"Sometimes, duty is the death of love”_ Tyrion’s voice echoed, but there was no love left in Jon, it died when he killed her. It was now his obligation to take what was rightfully his. Jon retched as his mind spun, as it would after many filled wine cups from a passing flagon during a feast.__

__“I thought you said vomiting was not celebrating” Tormund teased  
“It’s not” Jon felt heavy “I’m going to clear my mind, when fifth sun rises we will be traveling south” Jon needed to go one more place before decamping south._ _

__The wind had picked up as Jon rode his horse through the white waves of the North. He rode for two sun rises, making sure to keep his thoughts buried in the deepest part of his mind. The icy north wind was blowing straight into his face, this helped as all he could think of was the howling and biting from the wind. Ghost had kept pace with him, not stopping to rest or eat until he reached the waterfall it had been now two moons since he left. The moonlight drowned out all but the brightest stars. Its silver light kissed the waterfall, it reminded Jon of Dany and her long silken hair, he had never felt warmer than watching the water cascading down the snow caped mountain, just as strong and beautiful as she was._ _

He remembered Ygritte again, he remembered when he could not imagine being with someone else. It was eating him up inside, He had now come to love someone else. He was no longer a green boy, with the fresh smell of summer. He was now hardened by war, and the scent of blood lingered on him; and somehow, he knew she understood. Wetness puddled in his eyes, a small stream came rolling down his cheek, he needed to say goodbye to his former self and welcome what he was born into _Winter is coming with Fire and blood_


	9. Tyrion III

The parchment Sam had handed Tyrion revealed a letter to Jon. It began with Sam apologizing for not supporting Jons' claim to the throne, then Tyrion caught what Sam was ashamed to show Tyrion at first.

> _Jon, While I can't truly know how this may feel to you, I can certainly understand that what I did was one of the worst things I could possibly have done to you. My treason, is an especially terrible thing for me to have done to you after how you had me accepted into our family of the Nights Watch. You have not only shown how incredible, and selfless you are my brother, but you have also shown Westeros the support that I never could have possibly expected from a King. You put the lives of others, before your own; and for that we robbed you of those happy memories that could have been. Your exile, was an insult to all the things that you have done for us, and I hate myself for so easily allowing that.  
>  I can’t expect your forgiveness, though I certainly hope for it. All I can say is that I truly want you to understand how much I regret what has happened. I understand how love can feel, and imagining the thought of ever loosing Gilly would drive me mad. If you ever may need of my services, I am here to fully support you. I want to earn back the relationship that we had. Hopefully, in the future, we can find a way to move past this and create happier times together, and maybe if you ever find your way into Essos you can ask Drogon for my forgivness as well, I hear he may be doing well feasting upon livestock in Volantis Maester Tarly _

  
Tyrion put the parchment down, he knew Jon was banned from south of the Wall. Yet, Sam was right, he could most definitely travel east to Essos from Hardhome. There where no laws preventing Jon to travel across the narrow sea and into the free cities. "Do you think he will get this letter?" Tyrion ask inquisitivly? Sam pondered, the though. No one had seen Jon since he left Castle black with Tormund, he thought it may have been five moons since the last sighting of his friend. "I was thinking of sending it to the Nights watch and having a Ranger locate Jon", Tyrion chuckled and gave the parchment back to Sam "You know Jon better than anyone, not even his siblings can find him...he does not want to be found". Sam knew of this being true, but he also knew of landmarks that Jon had mentioned to him in the past, places he had visited when he lay with the wildling girl. "I think I may know where he is..I just need Gilly to show me on the map".  
Sam called for Gilly, she was due in a few months as could be told by looking at her struggle to come up the stairs. holding on to her skirts was Little Sam, bright blue eyed and covered in dirt. He had been playing in the stables before Gilly had been called for. Sam was beyond joyed that he was able to have a family, as no man of the watch was allowed to. He had been pardoned by Bran, and for that he was thankful, but no sooner had that feeling come to pass.It soured Sam, to remember that Jon's fate had not given him those luxuries he deserved. Sam pulled a map of the North. Not much of it beyond the wall was marked  
“Gilly, do you happen to know of a cave hidden within a waterfall?” Sam asked with hope.  
“Well there’s a couple caves here and there” she pointed to several located around the North, she thought harder and stopped, staring at the map intently “ there is a cave which supposedly leads from the haunted forest all the way beneath the Wall and beyoned” Gilly pointed to a location where it may be located. It was so far north near the lands of always winter. Sam huffed, he knew this journey would be treacherous “I will go” Sam said to Gilly “it’s now my turn to give something back”  
Gilly understood and nodded in approval, Sam had not been restless since Jon’s exile; she hoped this would clear his thoughts. “And How do you except me to explain to the king where you have gone?” Tyrion proclaimed.

“I want to visit the north! And see the ice castle where daddy helped the King in the North save us!” A little voice chirped from under a chair. The frizzy haired boy scrambled from underneath the chair and jumped out with a wooden sword waiving infront of him

“Rah!!” He pushed the sword towards Tyrion and a smile beemed from his lips.

“I think the story has been exaggerated a little” Sam blushed while quickly glancing at Gilly apologetically.  
“And this is how the truth becomes a myth and Where the little children grow wide eyed at the stories of our legendary heroes” Tyrion laugh bemusedly “well I can say the King in the North is now beyond the wall, so are we to start calling him the King beyond the Wall?”Tyrion finished.


	10. Danearys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany is recovering from her death, still trying to figure out why she has been brought back.

The days passed as Daneary’s physical wound healed, the scars becoming a reminder of a life past. The only pain left was the one in her heart, it beat a slow sorrowful song within her. She had not set foot outside the temple, hidden away from the world drowning in her thoughts. Each new memory bringing her no answer of why she was granted the flame of life again. 

_Fire has given life, the ice has given death, both cups have you tasted both have you known, the flames burn red, the flames burn blue, cold and hot dead and true_ Kinvaras voice played in Danys head, she hated prophetic visions, none had given her peace only grief. 

Death, It had always been around, decimating everything she held dear. It had come to her many times, taking from her until all she had to give was herself, and then it took her. She knew death very well.  
She only knew life painfully, it never survived long before death came around. What did Kinvara mean she knew life? It was always being ripped away, including her own She mussed.

“M’lady?” A quiet voice called out from behind her, Daneary’s looked behind her, she had been sitting near a windowsill looking out into the many gardens the temple towered above. Life blossomed there, little white buds ready to burst open to show the life hidden within. The birds chirping away singing joyful songs unlike the one inside her heart.

Dany beckoned her to continue “would you like to go outside? I think it would be good for you to breath the summer air” Alaine was right, maybe walking through the gardens would take her to another place inside her mind. 

Outside, the gown that Dany wore was simple and buff colored, it was tied with a flaming heart ornament on the shoulder as it free flowed down in in a scattered form. Dany adjusted the shoulder to hide the scar on her chest. Her hair was down, no braids and and shimmering with the rays of the sun. Together Alaine and Dany walked through the rolling green lawns that boasted colorful blooms, each with its own fragrance. In the midst of them all a large stone fountain, bubbling and inviting all creatures to drink from it. She stopped, and sat on the stone edge, her reflection was almost clear. A single tear rolled down her check and fell into the water distorting her image _if I look back I am lost_.

Alain carefully placed her hand on Danys back. Dany could tell the young girl still feared her. Kinvara had told Dany that Alaine had heard of her through the whispers in the temple. She had also been with her when the dragon appeared in the night, screeching and calling the attention of those around him. In his claws, a tiny woman with a dagger in her. She’s beautiful, Alaine had said as she was brought in, wondering how someone with such power and beauty could fall. 

Alaine trembled as she spoke “we all have a responsibility that has been given to us” In her hands, was an intricately woven wreath of small blooms “some of them are greater than others” she placed the wreath on Danys head.  
She smiled sweetly at Dany, seeing her closely listening to her words gave her a sudden spurt of confidence “When summer comes it gives life, but it can also get so hot it creates flames that destroy it, then it’s the responsibility of winter to give its rains to wash away some of the soot from the destruction and soaks the nutrients down into the soil, after sometime the wildflowers come up and new life begins” she took Danys hand in her “one cannot work without the other, you have a greater purpose than the rest of us, I know I’ve seen it in the flames”

Dany understood, she had been a great fire, sweeping everything around her in flames of destruction. She had given life to great beasts of fire and used them for death. She suddenly remembered Drogon, where had he gone? 

“Have you see the dragon?” Dany asked as she wiped the wetness from her cheek. Alaine shook her head, she had not seen the dragon after Dany arose from her death,  
“He had waited for three nights outside the temple, perched on the highest tower. His loud piercing cry carried through the night sky, it was continuous all those three days. On the fourth night he flew away, a great wind behind him” she recalled.

Dany looked into the sky, the suns rays blazing into her eyes, she wondered where her son might have gone.


	11. Jon IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost is not gone, he will be back.

He had taken off his furs inside the grotto and jumped in. Floating in the tepid waters contemplating how he would make his journey back to Winterfell, submerging himself and hearing the ping of the water droplets falling into the pool. _It has to be done_ he quietly thought to himself. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had bathed, his hair was slick with oils. Using his hands to brush through the unkempt hair Jon cleansed himself as best he could. The winter snow was not as harsh as it had been before, and yet the water felt soothing on his wind parched skin. Jon came out of the pool, and sat on the edge of a rock, completely alone. He saw his dark reflection looking back, dark circles forming under his eyes. Jon moved his legs out from the water, distorting his image. As he did a white blur crept up behind him. It was Ghost, he had joined him inside, staring at Jon with knowing eyes. 

Outside the cave Jon took one last look back, this time there was no one telling him to stay. He felt the wind blow hard against him, howling it’s mournful song. He rubbed his hands down his arms, the last time he felt so cold was when his life had been taken from him. Looking down from his mount, he saw Ghost almost invisible in the snow; Jon felt completely alone.

 

****

Just as said, on the fifth sunrise he was back at camp. His face was solemn, framed with flowing loose hair. He had sectioned off the sides, and pulled them back connecting them behind his head. 

Tormund was waiting for him mounted on his brown stout horse, behind him the rest of the wildlings. A slight nod, was all that was needed for Tormund to understand. Jon rode at the front, Tormund following closely behind. They rode in silence for what seemed like a lifetime of its own. 

They had rode past the full moon, and watched it turn into a sliver of its self by the time they reached the wall. Both of their eyes lifted to it, even after everything, the sight of it still gave Jon chills. It was scoured with its usual filmed wind blown dirt, and new lesions from the transpiring of before. The pale grey color could still be seen from miles off, stretching away to the east and west vanishing off to the distance, immense and now broken. This is was the end of the world at one point in their lives, and on its feet new life peering through the melting snow. Jon and the wall now bore a similarity, at their heart both cold, lifeless with their faces marked by tears. 

Jon’s voice was stoic as his face, and through it Tormund could see Jon slipping away.  
‘The last time I crossed this wall was to escape death’ Tormund quietly recollected ‘now I am with him’ he cast a glance at Jon who had grown frigid as the giant door rolled up to let them in. He took a look back at the North, wondering where Ghost had gone.

‘We can no longer hide behind small mercy’s’ Jon cast a look at his friend, it seemed there was no turning back. The small springs of grass creeping up went unnoticed to him. He trotted his horse into the darkness of the entry. His heart beating slowly, colder and soured by life. 

Inside, the brothers of the watch welcomed Jon. The silence that took over the courtyard was suffocating. No one had been expecting him back so soon. 

‘Lord Commander you have returned’ a young watchsmen called out.

Jon got off his steed, and in the most phlegmatic tone answered the young watchsmen

‘I am not your Lord Commander, I have only comeback to take back the kingdoms that where mine by birthright, of my ancestors and their ancestors before them’ 

‘The North has a queen, and the six kingdoms of Westeros have a King’ a young man proclaimed ‘its treason’ said another. Jon approached them, coldness in his eyes.   
‘The true Queen is dead, her life taken by my own hands’ he stopped in front of the first man ‘I did it for you, all of you’ he turned around, his hands held high above his head as if holding on to weight of the world in them, ‘and for what?, to be sent to a broken Wall, to make sure I never father an heir, to lose all my titles, and the woman I loved?’ He snarled ‘It was if I was nothing but a pawn in their game, My queen is dead, but as it is I never said my vows again, I paid my dues and this game is not over” he cast a menacing look at the two men that had spoke up ‘I know your vows, and will not ask any of you to break them, but do not oppose me’

Tormund watched silently as Jon walked to rookery, his cloak flapping in the wind, like the wings of a dragon. Jon, stopped as if heard something. He looked partiality back, slightly catching a glimpse of his friend. His lip slightly curled, his smile full of grief _the lone wolf dies.._ Jon turned back, letting Tormund find shelter for the free folk who still needed a leader.


	12. Tyrion IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter, But thought I should post it either way.

Sam mounted his horse and placed little Sam at the front of his saddle. He trotted around the baily with the boy, hoping he could distract him enough to leave him with Gilly. She was far to close to having child to be able to make the journey North. Sam huffed in frustration, and eventually succumbed to the child’s wishes ‘I suppose I can leave him with a nursemaid once I leave past the wall’ Sam asked Gilly. She nodded in agreement, a bit saddened but also needing the time to rest before her second came.

Tyrion walked up to Sam, eyeing the worry in his his face ‘The chid will be fine, he’s like his mother a hardy little thing’ he eyed Gilly ‘I will let the king know your taking the child to visit the lands of his mother, though I’m sure he’s already aware’ _and yet I wonder why he has not said a word_ Tyrion thought. As they crossed the heavy iron doors, hearing the door scream and groan as it rose, Sam mumbled to himself, aware of the foolishness of his journey ‘if blood makes my son fit to survive, then whats to keep another from following their family history’ he patted little Sam on the head remembering how strong willed Jon and Danearys used to be. Little Sam looked up at his father, and put his small hand on top of Sams hand that was holding a reign ‘it hasn’t fully turned to stone yet’ little sam seemed to look at the bridge, under it; the waters freezing solid. The ash had not fully cleared from the skies, and the sun barely could creep past it, keeping Kingslanding a grey barren wasteland.

As the portcullis closed down behind Tyrion, he looked up at the skies, a raven flying into the rookery. He hobbled as fast as he could, muttering the whole time. As he reached the cawing and fluttering of wings, Tyrion found Bran. He sat amidst the black flurry of wings, he was wearing all black, trousers and a belted jacket, layered beneath a matching cape. He greeted Tyrion his voice was dry and austere, his dark eyes that matched his sleek black hair meeting Tyrion’s.

A raven flicked at a scroll Bran held in his hands, cawing and tilting his head, pecking and fluttering all at the same time. He could see Bran had not broke the crimson wax seal holding the scroll together.

‘You have read a great many books in your life, wouldn’t you say?’ Bran inquired

‘Yes, I consider it my greatest weapon’ 

‘What would you say makes a difference between a story and a narrative?’ 

‘It’s the way you tell it, narrative is a representation or specific manifestation of a story, rather than the story itself’ Tyrion raised an eyebrow, Bran had a point to get to he knew this

‘’The difficulty is that a story, like truth, is an illusion created by a the narrative’ Bran handed the scroll to Tyrion, he paused and took a deep breath as he looked into the sky

‘I would say we haven’t met a denouement from this account of connected events’ at that Bran turned the wheels of his chair and started heading down the ramps that had replaced the stairway to the rookery.

Tyrion stood surrounded by the shiny black birds, they had stopped moving, looking at him from their perches, silently taunting him with their knowledge, not even the wind talked to him, and for the first time he felt helpless, small underneath their gaze.

‘Sometimes nothing is the hardest thing to do’ Bran said as he stopped at the beginning of ramps decline, he was looking over his shoulder pensative and sullen

Tyrion swallowed a painful remainder of a time with Daneary’s, an ominous feeling taking over his body _we're all lost.. Everyone, everything_ he repeated back the words back in his head, he had warned Daneary’s what would happen if she died.

He stood with the scroll in his hand, alone at last and spun it around to see the wax, a deep crimson red, a flaming heart sigil, the grooves so well imprinted the heart looked alive and throbbing with the scattered light of the hidden sun.


	13. Danearys II

She was growing weary with the passing of the days, it had now been almost two moons since she had been brought back. She paced over the many gardens and temple rooms, everyday a new face to merge with the ones of everyday. Aleida had shown her an orchard that grew nearby, the long rows of trees stretched into a colorful forests of delectable sweet fruits. It was within the temple grounds, but only the farmhands would visit to pick the fruits. She would make sure she would slip through the gates when no one was nearby, she was so thankful Aleida had shown her this sanctuary. 

Though she loved to be alone, her thoughts would haunt her unmercifully. As she sat under a medium sized tree with pale white flowers that had multiple pollen-laden stamens clustered around a single pistil and a light scent of jasmine. The tree was beautiful and brought tears to her eyes, she wept until there was nothing left with her. Images and feelings fluttered within her. A light breeze ran through the grove, causing some flowers to fall with its touch, it looked like snowfall _How could he take my life? Did He ever truly love me?_

She herd a rustle nearby, she looked around the grove but saw nothing. As Dany closed her eyes, remembering his eyes..there was a sadness in them.  
“M’lady” a small voice came from behind her, she was holding a small tray with dates, sweet breads, nuts and cheeses from the grounds.  
“I thought you may be hungry” she handed the tray to Danearys. As she turned to walk away Danearys called out for her “Aleida, please join me” she placed her hand down to a spot next to her under the shade of the tree, she was thankful for the company to keep her mind off of Jon.

The young girl sat quietly, also lost in her own thoughts. “Do you have a mother?” She asked the girl, her dark eyes looking up. “No, my parents were killed during the liberation of slavers bay” Dany froze as she took a bite of a date. She turned to look at Aleida, and offered her some of her food. The girl took a piece of cheese, she turned her head up to see the some of the fruits beginning to bud. 

She could tell Aleida had grown past her grief, her eyes no longer had sadness in them. Dany watched the girl take a sweetbread and picked from it. She looked back at Dany, and smiled “I used to come here myself, when I was first brought here. I was nine, my only belongings were what I had on” the girl paused and Lifted her gown just enough to reveal a silver anklet, consisting of a hollow ring with a rectangular section breaking into it in the center. It was decorated with repoussé flowers. On the back of the rectangular section a hand was engraved. _I killed them_ Dany thought to herself and reached out to place her hand on her shoulder.

“They did not treat their slaves improperly, yet they did take the freedom of choice away from them, but they were not bad people..only bad choices made” 

she looked at the meaty fruits growing, green and slightly fuzzy. Alaine got up, and reached for one of the fruits and brought it down to Dany, she pulled firmly on the two halves revealing a stonefruit inside the core of the fruit hull.

“You have to take the stone fruit out of the flesh, they split open by themselves when they are ready” she rubbed the pod and flung it across the grove. She sifted through the tray and picked at the sweet breads, it’s strong almond scent carried in the air.

“it is said that a prince from the lands of winter brought this tree to our lands, it reminded him of his home when it’s flowers would bloom. One day his betrothed ate the almonds thinking they where of the sweet kind, he found her near the foot of the tree lifeless, the prince used his ax and cut at the tree, his hands raw and bloody, he ordered his men to burn the tree down, he went back to the once beautiful and white tree that had brought him much joy, now scorched and black, laying by its roots were the almonds, thinking he would meet his lover once again he ate them” 

she touched the trees bark, 

“he found that he did not meet her fate, and the pain at his bloody hands now tolerable” 

she picked the bread up and split it in half giving some to Danearys, they both quietly ate in silence

“turns it can kill you if you eat them without tempering them in fire first”  
Danearys raised an eyebrow, she slowly stopped eating the sweet bread. Alaine chuckled, and finished her piece “here they are used for many things, in the breads, oils and even the medicine for pain we gave you” she rubbed at the nape of her neck, her fingers rough from daily chores  
“sometimes the most beautiful flowers can give rise to fruits of death, it’s up to us to chose what to do with that knowledge”

She looked at Dany and twirled at the ends of her hair 

“When I first saw you I wondered how someone so beautiful and small could be murdered, I was told you had achieved many wonderful things as well as many atrocities” Her eyes grew dull and her lower lip quivered  
“as I helped clean your body, I watched Kinvara pray for you, I asked her why she did so” she grabbed Danearys hand and wrapped her other around it “life’s greatest lessons are learned at the worst times and from the worst mistakes” Alaine looked deep into Danys eyes “I have learned to forgive you, it was my choice, as the people in Meereen also now have theirs”

She got up and walked away leaving to contemplate on what she had told her _she knew the whole time I was the one to kill her parents, how could she forgive me_ Dany rose from the ground, and brushed the twigs and leaves off her gown, she walked slowly back to the temple and picked up the stonefruit that Alaine had tossed into the grove. She tightly clutched it in her hand, she found another four on her way back and kept each one. 

When she came back to her chambers she found a small silk pouch and placed her almonds inside. She crawled on her bed, and placed the silken pouch on top of her breasts, the rubbed the fabric with her fingers, her eyes growing heavy as the time passed _You can... You can forgive all of them.. .they made a mistake. ... Please, Dany_ Jon’s voice reverberated in her dreams, _his eyes looking into her soul, his warm lips pressed against her and his arm wrapped around her waist, the warmth between, and suddenly a flash of light_ Danearys awoke sweating, panting and clutched at the pouch at her chest. Tears streaming down her face, she wanted to hate him, everything within her body told her to find a way to him, to kill him the same treacherous way, and yet she missed him and needed him next to her telling her there’s another way. 

Danearys wiped her tears, suddenly feeling dizzy, her stomach churning in discontent. She called for a bath, hoping to get some relief. Alaine was with her helping her undress, and brush the tangles from her hair. She reminded her of Missandei in so many ways, both somehow very similar and yet so different.  
“I’m sorry” Danearys said to the girl as she worked on her hair. She stopped her, and took the comb from Alaine “I think I can manage” they both sat listening to the echoes of water bouncing against the walls  
“Who was it?” Alaine asked, she twiddled with her fingers hoping she was not overstepping her boundaries.  
“He was the only man I could trust”  
“Did you love him?”  
Danearys took a deep breath, swirling her fingers in the water and cupping the small bubbles that formed  
“Very much”  
They both sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.


	14. Jon V

_Sansa, I write this letter with a heavy heart, I love you as my true and legitimate heir of Winterfell, and yet I find that our fates have not concluded. I was born Aegon Targeryan, the rightful king of the seven Kingdoms, unjustly sent to serve as the nights watch. I have taken the life of my queen, to save Westeros, and bring peace to a country laden with malice and hate.  
I ask you to step down from your position, and follow me as the rightful King of Westeros, not of independent Nations. I do not want a war, but will not negotiate as I have already lost what part of me was worth saving. I will be in the North within a moon, I hope the decision comes easy-Jon Targaryen The rightful Heir to the seven Kingdoms _

The parchment was rolled tightly as Jon rummaged through the matrixes available at Castle black. Hidden away in near a smaller cage seeming to have housed doves at some point, was a rusted signet of the three headed dragon. Jon, knew this had to have belonged to Maester Aemon, and used to write to Rheagar himself. He grabbed the black wax sticks readily available, and lit the wick watching the wax drop onto the parchment, the black liquid pooling under the stick. He pressed his little finger, now dressed with the signet, on the hot wax. The rust had left a flaky red coloring on the impression, he tied the roll on a raven, and sent him on his way. Jon rubbed the the bridge of his nose, swooping under his eyes as he took a deep breath. He felt heavy, tired and older, this was his first time acknowledging his house sigil.

He walked down the rookery steps, Fussing away with the signet on his finger. _Three heads has the dragon_ he moved it back to place on his pinky, amazed it fit him so well. Reaching the bottom, he met up with Tormund who waited patiently. Together they walked up to the round tower with merlons atop, The Kings Tower. Jon pushed open the oak door studded with iron, a loud creek echoing across the room. As Jon stepped inside, a fine cloud of dust released itself from the stone walls. 

He walked across the room to the stone hearth, and could tell there had not been a fire lit for quite some time. Jon swept away some of the old ashes and coals, picked up a a bundle of logs and placed them in the hearth. He grasped the back of nearby steel striker, and reached for his dagger. He flinched at the thought, a sudden lurch in the pit of his stomach. Tormund noticed and walked up Jon, handing him a short steel knife. Jon looked up from this knelt position, grabbing the long twisted tang. He struck the steel against the flint several times, sparks flying off and landing on the char cloth Jon had placed near the flint., The darkened linen, glowed a deep smoldering red reminding him of Drogons eyes. He tossed the blacked glowing mass into the tinders, gently blowing to start the fire, each puff raising a flame out of the ashes.

“Let’s go down and get some of that rancid meat water you Southerners call stew” with a nod they both went to the great hall, leaving a steward to tend the fire. The sounds and scents overwhelmed Jon as they sat at the front of the room, a great roaring fire behind them. A scraggly young steward brought them a horn filled of a dark ale, stale loaf, and a bowl of the chunky grey stew. Jon pushed at the horn, sliding it side to side watching the head bob with the motion, he lifted the horn and guzzled down the cold yeasty drink. He took a piece of the bread and dipped it in the stew, using it as a spoon

“It really is truly awful” Jon shook his head as he pushed the bowl away, his appetite not being large enough to take another bite of the gloopy stew. He took another bite of the plain stale bread, and washed it down with the rest of the ale.  
“What do you think if we travel about half a league south for a few hours?” Tormund said while pipping down a second horn.  
“Molestown?” Jon asked scrunching his eyebrows as he pushed his feet out from under his seat leaning his head back.  
“I guess that’s what you call it, It looked like a nice place last I went”  
Jon raised an eyebrow, and sat back up, tilting his head in awe at the words that came out of his friends mouth  
“You bloody raided the place!”  
“Aye, I’m just toying with you, I would still like to visit if there’s anyone left”  
Jon shook his head, stood up one hand on his side as the other rubbed his temple, he chortled in disbelief “you bloody oaf, I’ll go with you just to get out of this... deplorable place” Jon needed to leave, his body itched with the anxiety that grew within the walls of Castle black.

*******  
The usual scattered lights that flickered through the trees seemed fewer, there wasn’t even a bark from the towns dogs alerting of their arrival. They dismounted, and walked through the sludge of dirt and snow. A lonely song from the wind blew, it was the only sound they could hear, until they reached the wooden shack with the red lantern squealing it’s own song as it hung over the door. 

Jon had never pictured himself willingly going into those deep warm cellars, connected by a maze of tunnels. He could smell the musk of men, ale and wine, blood and feces through the tunnels. His upper lip lifted in disgust, Tormund was content and jabbering away about finding his treasure. As they reached the tavern, Jon opened the door and gestured for Tormund to walk in. The obscene smells where not as potent here, scents of oils, ale and herbs masked the stuffy air. 

Surprisingly, life still flourished in this darkness. Tormund bellowed in excitement as two cladly dressed tavern wenches approached them. They each carried a horn full of ale, and handed them out to both of them. Other significantly drunken men carried on conversations in the background, visually Tormund blended with the rest of them. 

Jon sat down closest to the hearth, the chair worn at the arm rests. His legs stretched out before him staring into the fire. He could hear Tormund talking loudly, the shrill shrieks of women getting fondled, and the clinging and clanking of dishes and dropping of tankards. He closed his eyes, the noises drowning in the haziness of inebriation, a small pile of tankards growing next to him. 

He was startled when a cold splash of liquid landed on his thigh  
“I have found a place below the wall I would not mind visiting more often” Tormund slurred “they have soured goats milk and the women have all their teeth”  
Jon looked under Tormunds arm, underneath it, a girl heavier in size with a thick coat of hair covering her arms and upper lip. She laughed at the stories Tormund recalled  
“and you dismissed it all those years ago” Jon said matter of factly  
Tormund laughed and wobbled back to the group that awaited to hear the rest of his follies “and then the bastard rode a dragon!”  
Jon smiled, he knew Tormund had missed Brianne, and was happy to see that his mood with a woman, any woman, had not faltered. _maybe he did fuck a bear_ he thought as he closed his eyes again with the swish of his beer.

Suddenly he felt a tight squeeze on his upper thigh, he slitted opened his left eye. A young woman stood before him, the fire a blaze behind, hair shining like silver with its light, she moved closer and squeezed higher, a twitch in his loins. He reached for her wrist, his slitted eyes looking at her. “Id like to ride the dragon too you know”, his eyes shot open. She was fair haired with dark wide eyes, and actually quite pleasant to look at. She eyed him up and down, with pink pouted lips as she tried to straddle him. He squeezed her wrist stopping her hand from going further, she leaned in towards his face, lips almost touching his. The scent of beer was strong in his breath, he twisted her arm, causing her to fall to her knees. She scrambled up, and moved quickly away from him. 

“Aye careful with that one, she’s one of my better ones” the inn keep bellowed. Jon stood up, his back still to the crowd  
“Aye, it was not my wish to damage your back alley whore” he turned around staring them all in the eyes.  
He could hear the whispers “it’s Jon Snow” “the king of the North?” “No the true heir” the tavern was a buzz. “Aye, the north remembers” he coldly growled, catching a glimpse of a man donning the mailed silver fist on a crimson coat, he made his way to him “tell your Lord Glover that the north remembers..what may be convenient to them, I hope his knitting has produced a nice shroud for his house” he threw his empty tankard on a table and walked out of the tavern, the door shutting behind him.


	15. Tyrion V

_The Gods have decided, a fate was chosen. Dragons do not do well alone or in captivity, the debt has been paid.- Kinvara High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light_

Tyrion clenched the parchment in his hand _what debt? Why did Bran not open this letter? Are they holding Drogon?_ thoughts running through his sober mind. Like a well disciplined child Tyrion somberly strolled down to his chambers and climbed into his wooden armchair. The chair was a solid piece starting at the seat curving upwards at an angle forming the back, small and stubby as himself. In front of him his open balcony, his morning table still holding his flagon nearby. He sat pensively, reaching for his goblet, it was empty. As he picked up the flagon an inner argument was brewing “The usual Arbor Gold” he mumbled. He pushed himself back to his feet, and opened his livery cupboard. Rummaging to find an adequately aged Dornish red. 

“The gods are good” he sneered pulling out the leather-bound decanter, twisting on the knobby cork as he made his way back to plop down on his chair. He stared out into the horizon watching the sun turn red as the wine is his cup. He pulled out the parchment again _the debt has been paid_ he took a swig, swishing it in his mouth tasting its tart flavor, trying to decipher what Kinvara wrote “damn wretched red women, can they just for once say things without a riddle” he put his feet up on a nearby stool,sliding the letter into his sleeve. With another swish of his cup, he propped his head back with his arm. His eyes growing heavy, small twitches in his body as the darkness took over.

Alone and knee deep in what looked like a river of bubbling blood, rumbling in the darkened skies, flashing into blues and white as the lightning struck above him. Tyrion sunk deeper into the water, it clung to him like bloody hands pulling him under the waves. He screamed for help, but only the howling wind responded. He was under paddling through waves of crimson pudding. He was suddenly ripped out like a snake in the claws of an enormous black hawk, only it wasn’t, it was as dark as the night with scales as big as him, his eye red and knowing, tightening his grip against his throat”” 

He awoke gasping for breath, he grabbed at his throat. He could feel his heartbeat, loud and hot against his grip. He drew another gulp of wine straight from the decanter. “What did we do?” He whispered to the wind, it answered back in a whisper _youu...youuuuuuuu_. Tyrion got up angered at the sound, slamming closed the doors of the balcony. Trying to avoid a subsequent dream, he left his chambers to stroll the keep. His head was heavy with wine, each step an achievement of their own. 

He found himself by the docks, the rocking and creaking of the wooden ships waking him from his haze. Grabbing onto a moore, and smelling the pitch and tar lingering in the air mixed with the salty smell of the water.

“What brings you here Lord Tyrion” a sullen voice called from above a ship. It was Davos, in the light of the moon Tyrion could see the old man had not been sleeping well. His eyes cradled in two bruised pillows under his eyes, unkempt hair and a beard that had grown in size. Tyrion tried to remember when the last time he had seen the old man at the small council meetings, but he could not recall.   
“I have been looking for you didn't you know?” Tyrion snorted, a sly smile across his face. He knew there was no fooling the old man, and quickly let up his act, shrugging his shoulders and lifting the decanter in response “If it wasn’t for your position I’d ask you the same thing” he answered truthfully.   
Davos grabbed onto a rat line, seemingly to use it as moral support.   
“The King wants me to go to East” he looked lost, defeated with life.   
“The dragon?” Tyrion inquired _or something else_ remembering the letter in his sleeve.  
“He just asked me to have a ship ready to sail east, I did not dare inquire why..it’s best I do not know..truthfully” Davos tugged at his glove releasing the nubs left on his left hand. He opened and closed it, pain still felt at his joints “the beast by all rights can justify the murder of his mother”

“And yet he didn’t...” Tyrion eyed Davos, taking a step up the rampart to get closer. The shipped groaned in response, a smooth ripple in the waters “he let Jon live.. a question that still burns in the back of my mind”

“Aye” the old man agreed 

“Dragons are intelligent, they’ve proved it many times. I feel I betrayed them”  
Davos looked inquisitively at Tyrion, the small mans eyes starting to mist 

“I convinced Jon that Danearys was the enemy. Looking back, she was no more than a lost little girl looking for a home”

Davos and Tyrion now both faced the starboard side of the ship, the moon casting its light in full splendor against the sea, keeping the shadows hiding its glow.

“He was too, we expected too much from the boy”

“He never had a home” Tyrion recalled his memories at Winterfell   
“When do you set sail?” He snapped out of the past, obvious those memories stung as a fresh wound

“I am unsure, I am just to have the ships ready at call”

“Baffling don’t you suppose?” Tyrion handed Davos the remainder of the wine

“Aye” and with a smooth hand movement the stubby hand grasped the decanter pressing it against his lips. Eyes closing, his face showing how deeply he wanted to wash away the past.


	16. Danearys III

This was Danearys first time venturing out of the Temple grounds. Outside, it was bustling with life. The large port city was a hot and humid place both day and night, its strong odor both sweet and foul lingered in the air outside the walls, her stomach churned. Her hair was brushed back and tucked away under a silk scarf the color of sand that covered her face. She turned back to see the Temple, numerous pillars, stone towers and domes intricately arranged. It’s vivid shades of red, orange yellow and gold colors in bright contrast to the 200ft seamless Black Walls of stone that announced your arrival at Old Volantis. She scurried away, not wanting to be seen or worse recognized. 

She walked around the city, not looking for anything in particular. She did come to notice, slavery was not as bountiful as before. The tattooed markings on the slaves faces where aged with the sun. She stood at the mouth of the long bridge, it was a world wonder in its massive size. Its entire length crowded with numerous buildings, taverns, temples, brothels and shops teeming with people like a disturbed ant hill. 

People yelling, screaming, selling, bargaining and people shouting. The fish market stood, loud and humid as the sun beamed down on rows and rows of separate stalls each selling their own catch. There she could smell the salt water, a scent of blood, the strong scent of fish. It was a thick veil of odors from the marine life all that lined the stands as smelly jewels, scales glistening in the sun. She felt her stomach lurch, the smells conquering her nose, a queasiness instantly rising to her throat. A sudden involuntary, forceful expulsion of her morning fast. She heaved, feeling dizzy of the sudden onset of sickness. She needed to leave the putrid place, feeling the fish head eyeing her she dashed away holding her mouth as she felt another eruption rising. 

Alas, she found deliverance from the stench. She was beside a small shop, an intense aroma of spices and earthy notes, orange, cinnamon, clove, topped with eucalyptus, coconut, lavender and violet, subtle hints of tobacco, and wood. They called for her as a prostitute would call a sellsword in the night, she followed them in. She looked around, obvious of her current disheveled look. She took a candle in her hand and breathed its musky, woody smell. It reminded her of Jon in every way. She pushed it away ashamed of her sudden need for him, upset of her feelings betraying her.   
Casually looking at all the different trinkets and ornaments on the shelves, a small bronze dragon statue caught her eye. She picked it up with her index and thumb, moving it around and admiring the details that had been carefully etched on the metal.  
“If you cant afford it put it down and get out” a gravely voice called out, a small woman almost blinded with age hobbled up to her. Her toothless mouth jutting out and waving her out of the shop, as she snatched the little dragon away.  
“How much?” Danearys Quickly called out  
“Too much for you” the shop keep eyed her up and down, seeing Danearys’s stained scarf and tunic, a whisp of hair stuck to her forehead. She walked to her corner at the far back of the shop, muttering annoyance.  
Danearys took out her coin bag, inside gold dragons clinked against each other taunting the old woman as she spooned cold fish stew into her mouth, Danearys gagged at the smell. She took two dragons out of the bag, she handed them to woman boticing it was her own features on the coins. She quickly covered her face with the scarf again, holding in the contents of her stomach.  
  
The woman’s wrinkled face crumpled as she rubbed it with her spotted hand, she was weary of her visitor. The woman handed her back the tiny dragon, that was not near the worth what it was paid. She smiled, toothless, her eyes hidden behind the wrinkled folds of her eyelids.   
“Here, this will help” she got back up, her curved back struggling to keep her upright.   
She reached for a small Jar nestled between others of saffron, myrrh, pepper, curry and cardamon. She reached in and pulled out a few small amber colored crystallized lozenges.  
“Take them in the morning with a slice of fresh bread” she laughed and guided Danearys out of the shop.  
“Thank you” She called out to the old woman who was on her way back to the comfort of her chair.   
Danearys put one of the candied treats in her mouth, the sweet crystals melting on her tongue. She bite into the slightly hardened hand rolled ball “mmm..ginger” she told herself as she made her way to the sweeter side of the market. 

Her stomach was bigger than her eyes at that moment. She could smell the ripe melons, limes, and oranges that adorned some of the carefully stacked fruit pyramids. She waved away some of the flies that inhabited the market, as she picked enough produce for a small Khalassar. The day had come and gone, her legs aches from the constant walking, sweat accumulated at her lower back from the heat, her hair damp under the scarf, and her fingers sticky with nectar from the fruits she ate. Dany was surprised that she still had remnants from her excursion by the time she got back to the temple. 

In her chambers, she placed the figurine on her side table. As content as she was, she knew she had to go back to Meereen, and with it Daario Naharis. Her throat felt a lump inside, the only dragon she had left was sitting on her table. How could she still be a queen? No Dragons, No army, and she felt more dead than alive,nothing more than a freshly butchered piece of meat. Soon enough she had to face her fears, hopefully she thought not when she’s this exhausted.


	17. Jon VI

It had been a month since Jon wrote Sansa the letter. He would have made it to Winterfell well before a full moon, if it wasn’t that his horses were spent from the many days out in the declining weather. As he approached the vast territories of his mothers land, Jon stopped to take in the sight. The eighty foot tall granite walls with guard turrets, guarding the even taller inner walls crenellated with watch towers on the unleveled ground. Jon squint as the gleam of the sun hit the stained yellow diamond shaped and windows reflected back. 

He kicked his horse to a hard gallop, his heart beat the same rhythm as the hooves of his horse hitting against the softened ground. Grass, mud, dirt and rocks sprayed in the air. His eyes fixed on east portion of the outer walls, where King's Gate stood. Behind him his free folk, and Northern men that joined him along the way, a royal progression on its own. 

He could hear the heralding of trumpets, and the wooden doors being pulled open with a creak and a groan. The Kingsroad behind him, as they rode into the inner baily of the Great Keep. _She was with me the last time I rode in, then we had a full army, including the Unsullied, the Dothraki and her dragons._ Jon looked at his surroundings, his army a shadow of its former glory, that’s if you could consider it an army. 

Sansa was approaching him, she was not heavily guarded. Dressed in a dark grey gown with an even darker wolf sigil at the front, and a fur-collared cloak, she approached Jon. A small smile crept from her lips, it was filled with sadness, and her eyes showed tenderness for Jon, safe in his ancestral home. With a wave of her hand, her guards stood down.

“Come Jon, welcome home” she spoke quietly 

Jon dismounted, and turned to look at Tormund. They did not need to exchange words, He dismounted as well but stayed behind with the rest of the riders. Inside the Great Keep, Sansa and Jon made their way to the Solar. There Sansa removed her fur cloak and sat down on one of the chairs. 

“Please join me Jon” Sansa motioned for Jon to join her in the adjoining seat.

“Sansa.. “ Jon began to say

“Let me say a couple things before you tell me why you are really here” she began   
“..I betrayed your trust, there is no forgiving that”

Jon’s shoulders tensed, he had not forgiven Sansa for the betrayal, his love for her like family kept him from taking further action at that moment. His eyes flared at her, darkening with the memories of the past. 

“I told Tyrion because he was the only other person close enough to Daenerys who might listen”

“You could have had me killed!” Jon snapped at her “the only reason she did not was ..because..” he trailed off searching for the right words

“She loved you” 

Jon’s eyes caught Sansa's, they were filled with regret. “It was clear she did not want an Independent North, and by riding the North of Danearys we wouldn’t have to fear another Targeryan ruler”

Jon got up, pacing the room as his thoughts consumed him.   
“You were right I loved her, she was beautiful no one could deny that”   
He looked out of the window, his hand rubbing the back of his head 

“but she cared for her people, how do you think she was able to control two unruly armies? and we’ve heard about her rule in Meereen   
when she was nothing more than a child” 

“Shes murdered innocent people Jon!”

“We all have Sansa, in one way or another we all have played a part”

“The bells rung! The war was over and the city surrendered Tyrion had told her if that happened the city surrendered!”

“She no longer trusted Tyrion”

“She was just like all the others in her family ruling by blood and fire” 

Jon remembered when Dany told him she was relenting to fear, he had denied her the love she needed from him, she was alone and in a land where she was not understood , his back stiffened he felt anger towards himself.

“She lost her children, Ser Jorah and Missandie, they were more then her advisors they were her family, it was the right choice for her, she had tried love and look what that did to her”

Sansa couldn’t believe Jon agreed on what Daenerys had done, she froze unbelieving what came out of his mouth..

“You cannot be serious!?..those beasts were not children!” She covered her shoulders back up with her coat, it seemed there was a draft in the room.

“A wise man once told me that a Targeryan alone in the world was a terrible thing” Jon fisted his right hand, peeling of his gloves to expose his scarred hand where the fire had licked at his skin all those years ago, he felt a chill within him.

“I wasn’t there for her Sansa, if I would have stopped for one moment and been there for her I could’ve prevented all of this!” He turned to Sansa, his eyes hollow a filling with truths “she could’ve gone directly to King’s Landing and brought down Cersei, but I stopped her and she came to our aid, we would’ve had to kneel one way or another!”

“You where the true heir of the throne Jon, can’t you see?!”

“That would make me a Targeryan, would have you betrayed me then too?!” Jon was breathing hard, his face red and unnerved. He paced the room, surrounded by books, many with the history of Westeros written on their yellowed parchment. He picked one up, and carefully held it in his hands. He flipped it around noticing there was no indication of it ever being exposed to fire. Jon flipped through the pages, his breathing slowing down and the feeling of soft parchment rubbing on his calloused hands. The penmanship was beautiful and delicate, he flipped to another page, it was carefully detailed sketches of Dragons. A faint smile formed on his lips, it was as if he was looking at one of Dany’s dragons. Jon carefully put the book back, his finger lingering a little longer on the books spine, it was unmarked. 

“I thought they had been lost”

“Tyrion had borrowed some books with dads permission, he had them returned once he was done reading them” Sansa raised from her chair and walked up to Jon. His temper had cooled down enough for his eyes to meet her blue ones, they where misty and tinted pink from the tears she held back.

“He made sure to send books from fallen castles like the Umbers”, she paused and walked to a section in a bookcase. The books were bound in beautiful leathers and intricate stamped patterns. She handed one to Jon, it felt heavy in his hands and the leather looked like black shimmering scales.  
“He brought these too, they are from his travels in Essos” she saw Jon flip the book to see the spine _The Fires of the Freehold, Galendro's history of Valyria_ “Danearys had given him a full set, he thought you should have them.. I just wasn’t sure when IF ever would be the right time to give them to you”

“Sansa..” Jon pushed the book back to her, sickening him with guilt.  
“I came here because I cannot sit back and let you all take what little I have left” Jon walked back to the chair and slumped his body into the worn wooden armrest smooth with use.

“I took this land from her, she was my queen, my family and she wanted us to rule together” he chocked up, remembering her last words to him.

“I never wanted to rule, I would have given it up for her, seven hella Sansa I thought I was just a bastard my whole life!”

She walked up to Jon, visibly pained. Placing her hand on his shoulder, and staring down at her brother. “ you know I cannot let you do what you came here to ask of me?” 

Jon grabbed her wrists, and pushed her hands away. His temper rising again, eyes growing dim and lifeless. Sansa could feel the cold nipping at her, she couldn’t tell if it came from a draft or within Jon.  
His hand moving towards the hilt of his long sword, the pommel growing hot underneath his palm.

A sudden screech was heard outside, screaming and yelling proceeded to take place. Jon looked at Sansa _would she attack my men?..no that was not the sound of men_ Jon pushed Sansa out of his way and ran through the corridors and out the doors of the courtyard. 

A strong gust of wind blew down from the skies, freefolk and knights alike bowed to keep standing against the aggressive wind. Many began falling on their knees, their hair wild and whipping at their faces. Jon stood there’re his breath ragged, he saw Tormund eyes filled with apprehension and fear, as he looked above the roof Jon stood under. 

Finally he saw Sansa arrive beside him, her eyes a blaze with confusion. Jon stepped out from under the roof, the armory to his left now. He looked above him, the sun blinding him as he pulled his arm above his eyes to shield him from the waves rolling into him, and the suns unforgiving light. A black shadow blocked the sun, _an eclipse?_ it grew larger, a loud pitched roar and wings that spanned the length of the corridors themselves.

“Drogon!” Tormund yelled at Jon, who stood frozen to the ground. 

_He’s finally come for me_ He walked into the courtyard, he had no fear, he wanted this, it would be redemption for his treason. Drogon moved towards Jon, his claws tearing at the ground where he stepped. Jon awaited his final moments, he shed his furs, and pulled his armor off. He needed the beast to cleanse the world of him, drogon reeled back, a gurgle in his throat the fire making its way out of his jaws. He stepped over Jon, cradling him between his two enormous legs. Spitting out the infernal fires from within his armored body, Drogon aimed at the feet of all those that opposed Jon. 

He reeled back again, holding it at the base of his throat, and stepped back looking down at Jon. His deep red eyes, piercing through Jons coal black iris’s. _Her eyes shone bright, her pink lips parted slightly, silver locks of hair wrapped around Jon’s hand, she gasped as Jon slid into her... he could almost feel her warmth.._   
“Jon!” Sansa yelled through the manic around him, He snapped out of the moment and turned to see her angered at the beast. “Your sword Jon!” He remembered Longclaw. He grabbed the pommel once again, pulling it out from its shield. Drogon seething fire above him


	18. Tyrion VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tyrion chapters are currently little fillers that pave way to the main story. Sometimes there will be important moments and others just like in life, carrying though until there is. I didn’t wrote much i this time due to having surgery and not being my best, but I needed to love the story along.

The days were getting colder, and the skies where tinted with streaks of red against it’s blue hues of the evening sun. Ravens flocked the inner baileys and courtyards, their usual cawing and fluttering piercing the usual clatter inside the inner courtyards. Tyrion’s head spun, puzzled at what King Bran had told him. Nervously he picked at the hairs in his beard, plates piled next to him as he had not eaten since speaking to Bran. 

***  
“As much as I feel the twinge of sadness to see those that I have loved in pain, or hurt or even breath their last breath.. I have learned it’s best to not interfere with what destiny has chosen for each of us” Bran wheeled himself closer to Tyrion. He pulled the roll from Tyrion’s hands and carefully traced over the direwolf sigil, a faint smile crept upon his pale lips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried” 

“It is mans basic nature to want to know” Bran lightly waived his left hand in dismissal 

“Humanity is made for uncertainty, struggles, choices and ..change”

“Tyrion, if I told you that the road ahead of you is long, dark, and, I fear, bloodstained..would you try and find a way to escape your destiny?” 

Tyrion thought long and hard about the question, _how much more bloody can the road get? I would have changed so many different things along the way..bringing Shae to the lions den, killing my father and paving way for Cersei to have control, meeting with the slavers, advising Danearys to trust my sister, having her not to attack King’s landing when she was at her peak power and .._ “betraying her trust” he finally spoke “so much could’ve been changed if I had done better as hand of the queen” 

“And what if I told you that it was your destiny to betray the Targaryens?” Bran looked deep into Tyrion’s eyes, his face never showing a hint of emotion 

_it did seem as if it was destiny that the Lannister and Targaryens houses were to have conquests, strained friendships, and betrayals within them_ the thought briefly passing through his recollection of past events.

Bran took the nearby blade Tyrion had used to slide open the wax seal.  
Tyrion swallowed hard, his blood seeping away from his face as he turned pale watching Bran furnish the shiny metal near him. 

Bran slowly brought down the blade, and notched the top part of his chairs wheel. A deep gash formed against the smooth wood. Bran, brushed off the splintered pieces, and began to move around the room. The notched visibly spinning away from his sickly pale hands. Bran circled back stopping where he began, the cleft sliding back under his waiting palm.

“The wheel is time and it turns, ages coming and passing, leaving us memories that may become legends, and then those fade into what we call myths” He looked at Tyrion his eyes dark and penetrating “and even myths are long forgotten when the age that gave it birth comes to rise again.. a little different with small changes along the way but the main parts and deep cuts remain”

Tyrion thought back to the time after Joffrey’s death, Oberyn had visited him recalling how he was offered to marry his sister and thus causing displeasure with the Martells _grievances going back generations serving as the reason for families that had no reason to fight today to do so. He also thought about Jon, and how had he not followed his Stark honor he would still have the woman he loved today, the same strings and plots pulling at him, making him dance the same dance so many had done before_

Tyrion looked defeated “Perhaps the wheels spins, but all roads must come to and end” he slouched over a small stool, his hand cradling his chin as he plucked at his hairs.

“But first you must live to reach the end of it, death will come for us all I’m afraid, We

we can only choose how to face it when it comes”

“Im terrified of living, I welcome death with open arms” 

Brans birds which tended to quietly observe began cawing an awful tune “live, live, live” Bran smiled and shooed them away

“I’m afraid to tell you it’s not yet your time to die”

Bran pulled out of the room, unrolling the parchment Tyrion had tampered with. As he made his descent out of the room he turned to Tyrion a sad smile, and a for the first time a shine in his eye “It took me a while and some will have to pay the price, but I think I might have fixed my mistakes”

***

Tyrion looked mad, his hair frazzled and his attires unkempt. Tyrion sighed, he had done so much damage with the flapping of his tongue _was he part of Brans plans too?_

“Lord Tyrion?” A small voice called out from the doorway.

“Come in” 

“A raven has brought you word from The Maester” the same boy as before made his way to him.

Tyrion had been waiting to hear from Sam, it was later than he assumed but Sam was never a fast rider. He took the scroll, a circular golden chain, made up of twelve square links were stamped upon a white wax seal that he broke open. 

_Lord Tyrion,  
I write this with great apprehension. It has come to my attention that Jon Snow has come back from beyond the wall. Winterfell has been taken control of by Jon, and he rides out with an army to House Glover. I fear, he will not listen to reason. The dragon is with him now. -Maester Tarly_

Tyrion crumpled the message “what kind of idiocies does Tarly write?!” He fumed “for a Maester he doesn’t have proper etiquette on writing a decent informative message!” 

The page scurried around Tyrion and brought him a flagon of wine  
“Wine? Not today. Strange enough things happen when my head is clear” he put his hand up stopping the boy from finishing his task. 

“Don’t tell me that fool is considering himself a dragon like his uncle the beggar king!” Tyrion muttered to himself quite loudly “I’m beginning to think the gods don’t care what side of the coin it lands on for any Targaryen!”

“M’lord?”

Tyrion stopped his antics aware he was being watched, he gestured for the boy to talk.

“The fishermen said they saw a dragon during the time of the wolf five nights ago” Tyrion raised an eyebrow remembering Bran had been keeping track of Drogon _strange he did not mention knowing of him back_

“We pay no mind, sometimes they even talk about mermaids.. my mother says it’s the days out in the sun, and my sister says they drink the salt water” the boy laughed blowing away his shaggy hair from his eyes “we all know the King of the North dug his sword Into the giant beast along with the wretched Dragon Queen” 

Tyrion’s stomach sunk hearing that, but the boy only had part of it right “Durwin right?” The boy nodded “it was a dagger that he put in her heart, and the beast had a name.. Drogon” 

Durwin still a young boy, too young to be a squire plopped himself down by Tyrion’s feet looking up at him, his eyes growing large waiting for Tyrion to tell him more of the story. Tyrion knew Durwin would sometimes sneak around the castle with little Sam and pretend he was a knight battling against the white walkers. Little Sam always wanted to be The King of the North and Durwin would pretend to be Sir Jaime Lannister the one handed knight. Tyrion chuckled at the thought, the only moment he had in a very long time where he remembered how stories could lift a young child’s imagination and how quickly This one was starting to drift from the truth he remembered he needed to check Maesters Ebrose Story of _A song of ice and fire_

“he loved her you know?” 

Durwin shook his head “The King loved the Dragon Queen?” His face reeling in surprise 

“She was not always unnecessarily destructive, and her beauty was incomparable to any other” Tyrion smiled remembering when he first met Daenerys 

“The King you speak of, was a very honorable man. He loved her not for her beauty, but for what she stood for” the boy sat listening to this side of the story, he had only heard it from an outsiders perspective 

“Lets start for the beginning, before Sadness, power and destruction corrupts a heart” _and how one very small man could cast a very big shadow_ ”that and I need some distraction that doesn’t require my usual state of intoxication”


	19. Daenerys IV

The Demon Road was Five hundred fifty leagues from Volantis to Meereen. It ran through deserts, mountains, swamps, and demon-haunted ruins. The good part was, there was little traffic and there would be no one to point the finger and say which way they’d gone. The Kingsroad muddy tracks were archaic here. Valyrian roads were black rivers of fused stone that neither time nor had traffic marred.

The bad part was, she had no dragons, unsullied or her Dothraki to keep her safe. Daenerys hated it. The land was not gentle, and even the smooth rolling hills made her stomach churn in disapproval.

Once, in the middle of a dense marsh, she came face-to-face with a large creature reminiscent of an armored dragon, powerful beak-like jaws opened in disgust as Daenerys hurled over the side of the road releasing her morning blackberries and cream. There had been nothing to do for it, but to wait while her stomach settled. 

Alaine had been sent with Daenerys, they had grown close during the time at the temple. She seemed to keep Daenerys pleasant company, keeping her out of her inner demons at least. As they resumed their journey, Alaine produced a bag of candied pecans, she had grown comfortable with Daenerys, no longer fearing her, she inquired about Daenerys past lovers. They both knew they were bound to meet one at the end of their journey.

Time passed as they traveled through the Flat Lands. It was not the wagons that slowed them, or a sick or injured ox. A dozen times a day they had to stop to free Daenerys from her silk lined litter, so she could empty her uneasy stomach.

Alaine, asked about Khal Drogo. Daenerys voice never wavered as she spoke, vividly explaining what she had endured at a tender age, how she had been gifted to him by her brother, the death of her child and the birth of her dragons. Her sadness had been long replaced with acceptance.

Daenerys shifted around the silk pillows stuffed with goose down. Inside the litter, dark red velvet walls curved above them. She felt confined itching to stretch her legs, her clothes digging into her skin. She pulled at the seems of her gown, her upper torso needed relief. Alaine helped her loosen the straps that held her breasts in, she sighed, only finding a moment of relief from her confinement.

The days filtered through the small opening in the litter, the sun setting and the moon rising always separated by different horizons. The sun always searching for the moon, burning with passion for her, but she lived in the darkness of her sorrows.  
Daenerys had heard about this story during her childhood, but only briefly remembered it.

Alaine, asked about Hizdahr the Ghiscari noble, but It only brought resentment to Daenerys voice. She mentioned how he was pretentious and conniving, never truly loving her and only using her for his lust of the throne _had she asked to much of Jon to hide who he was for her own Lust?_.  
The creaks and groans from the wagon let them know they where on slopping hills. The movement reminded Daenerys why her breasts needed to be strapped in tight, they ached with each sway of the wagon. She felt nauseous again, but she managed to keep her composure this time. Alaine rubbed her lower back in her own discomfort.

The Velvet Hills were now behind them, a steady descent towards Rhoynar city, or more where it used to be before the dragons of Valyria had reduced it to nothing but ash. _it’s as if am traveling through time, back to witness the days when dragons ruled the earth.. so much destruction_ Daenerys thought

As they got closer to Meereen, Alaine asked about Daario. Daenerys voiced how he was faithless and brutal, a skilled sellsowrd to say the least. She explained she had left him as Regent during her long absence. It seemed he had shown some genuine affection for Daenerys, though she did not reciprocate. Daenerys exhibited irritation knowing she had to mingle with him again.

Alaine veered away from stories of Westeros, most she knew were riddled with pain. Only superficially treated with bandages of feigned indifference. As the wagons stopped to let them stretch their cramped bones, Daenerys noticed Alaine was stained dark on the back of her gown. She looked around, there where no other women with them. She herself had only had her moon blood a few times in her life, but knew enough to help Alaine. 

The ragged hem of Alaine’s under tunic was stained through, there was no water nearby, so Daenerys gave her one of her gowns. The sight of so much red frightened the girl, but Daenerys reassured her, comforting the girl as she herself had never been.

They came across a lone Valyrian sphinx crouched beside the road. It’s body huge and resembling a dragon, but it bared a woman’s face. “The Dothraki have taken the Sphinx King to Vaes Dothrak” Daenerys pointed at a moss covered, smooth stone slab where the Sphinx King once stood. 

“Why keep them apart?” Alaine wondered out loud “can you bring him back to her?”

“I suppose it can be done, but it will be quite a journey across the seas” she chuckled, Alaine was still a child even though nature said otherwise “a journey like that can damage him, might not be the same when he’s back” Daenerys looked outside past the crimson drapes, the inky blue sky turning red as the litter _she wondered where the Dothraki had gone, she remembered her own moon blood, and the child that could’ve been, she was so young and so selfish then, too young for a child_

Daenerys pushed her head back into the silken pillows. Sleep caressed her like a mother cradling a child, she threw herself into its dream inducing arms, letting the images and sounds of moments passed lull her to sleep.“Always and forever” Daenerys whispered barely audible even to herself.

*****

Inside the city of Meereen, Daenerys closed the drapes above the litters small opening. She could feel the narrow twisty alleys and wide brick streets with each bump in the wagon. It had a similar smell to Volantis, she could smell the streets, granaries, the musky brothels, the different scented gardens, trickling water in fountains, and the smell of rust and iron from the fighting pits, she gagged. 

The wagon lurched as it stopped, she could here the commotion from outside the silken walls. She made eye contact with Alaine, the door opened and a stream of light flooded inside. She knew she had arrived at the Great pyramid. A hand was held out for her “Your Magnificence” the voice penetrated through her body, she laid four fingers out into his palm as he pulled her out of the carriage.

Her hair loose, shorter than what he would remember. She wore a gown that dipped down into her chest, stopping right before her unsightly scar made its presence known. “I thought your dragons would have made their presence known before your arrival” Daario looked inside the litter, a young unfamiliar face making its way out.

Daenerys grinned _he must be aware_ “a dragon does what it pleases”

“You speak of only one dragon, so the rumors are true” 

“I’m glad to hear I’ve not been forgotten”

Daario smiled, he could see Daenerys was not inclined to speak about her dragons.

“I have prepared for your arrival, you should find that I’ve kept everything how you left it”

He lifted her hand, and placed a kiss on the back of it. They descended up the massive brick steps that led into the thrifty story pyramid. She looked behind her, Alaine keeping pace to not leave her side.


	20. Jon VII

He could feel Drogon above him, holding a living ball of smoldering flame within his Jaws, intensely staring at the people beneath him. Jon looked up, the heat radiated from every scaly pore of the creature.  
_the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives_   Jon remembered when he first found Ghost. He was alone, forgotten, white as snow, dark red eyes, so different from the rest of the pack, and yet every bit their own. Jon noticed Drogons eyes, deep red like fresh spilt blood _Ghost_ he drew comfort, a feeling of warmth drew over him, and suddenly the deep red eyes shifted to fix on someone else, the cold feeling washing over Jon again.

“Jon!” Sansa snapped at him, She was shaking, fear in her eyes. “Kill the wretched beast now!”  
Jon gripped at the pommel, twisting the wolfs white head in his palm, sweat accumulating between his hands and the once cold stone, he remembered Viserion falling from the sky into a frozen tomb, he remembered Danys last breath as she looked into his eyes.  
“I command you to kill him now!”. his hands going slack in defeat _I have already killed enough Dragons._ Jon’s eyes met hers “You are not my queen!” Jon stepped towards Sansa, his eyes now fixed as Drogons “Im nothing but a threat to you, unjustly sent to the wall, to live out the rest of my life, alone and forgotten erased from history and stripped of my titles, why didn’t you say who I was then during the council?”

“There was no other way Jon!” Sansa trembled as she spoke, her queens Guards ready to defend her at her side. They Stepped forward swords in hands. Jon’s eyes shifted to them, Drogon reeled back once more and produced a large enough flame that singed the hairs of those around him, but not enough to turn them to ashes _he’s guarding me?_

“Jon, you gave up your title when you bent the knee to her!” Sansa looked above Jon, trying to hold her composure in the presence of the beast.

 _"_ Before I even knew who I was!, things could’ve have been done differently had I known ” He yelled back at her _she could have still been alive_ , it was such a bad timing for Sansa.

“You betrayed your men by doing so can’t you see?!”

“By giving them a chance to live? Was my pride as King more important than my people?..No one dies from bending the knee” He  snapped, noticingThe northern men shift inside their armor. _I would burn the world and use my soul for tinder to see her again_

“I will not ask you again Sansa” Jon now close enough to see Sansa’s skin prickled with fear. Her eyes visibly shaken, pinned against her pride and will to live.

“Jon! You cannot do this!” she pleaded in disbelief

Jon disregarded her pleas, turning his attention to the rest of Winterfell’s men “I do not hold any of you in contempt, but you will either join me or die” he motioned for his men to disarm Sansas guards and detain Her. Drogon rumbled and fumed, spitting out hell into his surroundings, consuming everything around him, giving Jon’s men an opportunity to overpower the others. None truly resisting, knowing full well what would await them if they did, they had been there watching Kings Landing turn to ash before them. Jon made his way into the direction of the Armory. Behind him, the sound of iron clashing and dropping, the gurgling screech from Drogon, the sulfuric smells of decaying horses and gods knows what surrounding them. Beyond, sounds of discord trumpeting through the air. “Stop! Jon!” Sansa’s voice piercing high above the clamor. Slowly he turned, watching her with cold unnerving eyes _She caused this, she killed Dany...and father._

“I should have never betrayed your trust, I should’ve fought for you as you did for us” her voice unwavering, in her eyes remorse shown through, like she could hear Jon's thoughts. He knew she always wanted what was best for the North, he could not deny that, but he had never forgiven Sansa for betraying his trust “a man’s word must be as good as an oath sworn in front of the gods or it was no good at all..you broke an oath to me, here in these very lands”

Tormund had stood watch at his side, quietly observing, he looked up at the Dragon. He was not sure what to make of things except despite everything, this massive creature was here out of all places and had not once shown aggression towards Jon.

“Jon” he pulled him aside “I was once your enemy” he quietly said, “and you where once his” he motioned his chin towards Drogon “this guy here has not eaten you for a reason, to fight the raven you may have to make an alliance with the serpent until the real battle is done.”

Jon looked at Drogon, then at the men surrounding them. He was right, he was everything the Dragon wanted to destroy, but somehow he was here for him controlling his resentment towards his mothers Killer, as he had done once before  _I was the serpent slithering through the shadows plunging my poison into her heart_.

“I had asked Dany to forgive those who had wronged her, she refused... I ended her life for that reason,” his face solemn. Sansa was pale, her eyes swollen with held back tears. Jon watched as she dropped to her knee, her pride never faltering in her submission, she knew she was alive because of him as was the North and every southern kingdom.

“I am Aegon better known as Jon the Son of Rhaegar Targeryan, my Mother Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, I am the true and rightful Heir of the Seven Kingdoms, and Just as it is my right to rule over these lands I will grant that Sansa Stark stay in her ancestral lands as Lady of Winterfell” he turned to look at Tormund, who nodded in agreement. He turned his gaze at Sansa “I wish there was another way” Jon sheathed Longclaw.

“At first light we ride to Deepwood Motte” he bellowed to his reacquired army. As Jon made his way to into the walls that raised him, he felt the air rise around him, swirling around silently, lifting his his hair and pushing it back to his face. Looking into the vast skies, he could see Drogon melting into its darkness. His scales glimmering as the stars, silent and ever present, observing Jon even then. In the distance a wolf howled, he knew it was GhostI was never nothing, A wolf and a dragon, disguised as a bastard

 

* * *

 

The castle was nestled above a small hill with a flattened top. Jon knew the mossy wooden outer walls were defended by roughly seventeen hundred men covering the large trench, wooden stakes and two square towers and wall-walks hiding behind forest further than the eye could see. Jon’s men surrounded the castle, quite as shadows as they approached the watchtower. The dense woods keeping them hidden no matter how high it rose above, they were undetected in their dark suits as they crept almost right to the front gates.

The warning Jon had sent Lord Glover, while at Molestown had been taken lightly. Lord Glover, never expect that Sansa abdicate herself from her throne. How could a single bastard, lead enough men, to overtake Deepwood.

Jon had wasted no time, to lieu his men in. The aged wooden walls that protected the keep folded to the battering rams. It didn't take long for Robbett Glover to bay without a properly planned counterattack, relaying his men to crack open the northern gate. The Northern army flowed in, singing in unison as they carried a good head into the keep, banners of a white wolf triumphantly waving in the air. He had wanted Targaryen flags, but none where readily available in such a short notice, then again he still very much considered himself a Stark in many ways, the thought pulled him in many directions.

“It is harder to spread a whores legs with my cock than it was that that gate with your ram” Tormund chuckled as he rode to Jon dismounting his horse. Jon smiled genuinely at Tormunds remarks, laughing at both his own thoughts and his impulsive companions cheeky tongue. He was right, he thought, it took less time to infiltrate the castle than it took Tormund to release his bowels after a full feast.

Robbett waited like an unkenneled quarry. His dislike for wildlings more obvious than ever before, glaring at both Jon and Tormund with unrivaled repulsion. Lord Robett Glover was however not granted the same amount of restraint as Sansa, and neither did Tormund speak up for the man.

“You did not fight beside me on the field, turning your back on us when we called upon you during the time of greatest need”

“I stood behind you until you abdicated to a foreign whore” shrewdly spitting

Jon boiled with anger, he wanted to grab the man by his neck and wring the last living breath out of his body “You claim you turned your back on house Stark, but you turned your back on the whole North”

“I will regret that until my dying day” his voice boomed gloomily

“We all fought, Free folk, northerners, the nights of the vale, even that Foreign Whore!, we fought together, and we won to see the dawn”

“A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness.” his lips sneering at Jon. He had used those exact same words before. A smile grew upon Jon's lips, it was a cruel smile full of hate, and thirsty for blood

“My father.. or should I say my uncle, used to say that we found our true friends on the battlefield.” he raised a mocking eyebrow

Lord Glover looked confused at Jon’s comment, his head tilted wondering if he had heard him correctly. "How would he know! Benjen never went to battle!"

“Lord Glover, did you ever wonder why a man as honorable Ned Stark would father a bastard?”

“All men have needs between battles” the white haired man answered without a doubt in his tone

“He swore an oath to his dying sister to keep her infant son safe from Robert Baratheon”

All houses in the North knew the story, Rhaegar had taken Lyanna and raped her until her death, a child had never been mentioned.  
“Robert and Ned where like brothers.. why would he be interested in Neds Bastard?..” his eyes grew large, recalling the stories of Lord Stark and Howland Reed battling Ser Aurthur Dayne, Oswell Whent, and Lord Commander Hightower at the Tower of Joy. The stories of Ned coming back with a bastard welp.

“The White cloaks only protect royal bloodlines" his words fumbling ".. you are no bastard!” he gasped

“Kneel” Jon's voice stern with coldness in it

At first the stout man refused, but what he saw in Jon’s eyes was not him asking to bend the knee and swear fealty to him. This man had not only betrayed his mothers lands, but had openly defied loyalty to his fathers house, Targeryans. Two Stark men grabbed him by each of his arms, a firm grip keeping him from moving. He dropped down to his knees, head hanging down, defeated by his own hands.

“I, Jon of the House Targaryen and Stark , The Undead, The White Wolf, The True heir of the Seven Kingdoms, sentence you to die” Jon unsheathed Longclaw raising it high above his head and swinging it down loping the mans head of with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed across the muddied earth, pooling on the ground red and hot, smoking in the cold.


	21. Tyrion VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I tried finally getting one chapter away from Jon coming back to Kings Landing.

The rookery in King’s Landing was just as busy as Kings Road. Ravens flocked from all corners of the Northern Westeros, fealty pledges to House Targaryen being noted with the Maesters at the Citadel. This grew concerning to Tyrion, as Jon was gaining momentum. 

“Your grace?” Tyrion interrupted Bran.  
Bran was in the Godswood, it had suffered greatly from the fires. The great oak heart tree stood scorched and leafless, cleansed of the smokeberry vines that once crawled upon its massive brown body. In Brans hands a small burlap of seeds. He was tossing them around the massive tree, the ground was barren and scorched.

Bran barely moved except for a slight nod, seemingly uninterested in the news Tyrion was bringing him. 

“Jon’s Army has began his descent from the North and will be claiming Riverrun as easily as the North I fear”

“Yes and hence fourth your lands too Lord Tyrion”

Tyrion knew that was inevitable, there was no able bodied man to help give his name lands a chance.

“Do you think Lord Arryn..?”

“I think that depends on the Dragon” _so he did know Drogon was in Westeros_

“And that still does not worry you, your grace?” 

Bran took a last handful of seeds and fertilized the soil out before him “Men are always more fearful than they wish to be, but they can always be courageous when they don’t expect”  
He didn’t look at Tyrion, but he could sense he was talking about him.

“He has come around the acceptance with who he is.. Lord Tyrion you chose me as your King for a reason, I trust you still have faith in me?”

 _Trust is a slippery thing_ Tyrion knew all too well, but still took a moment to understand Bran Jon never wanted the Throne, or the responsibilities or headaches that came with a crown. He had always considered himself a bastard, a member of the nights watch who’s sole purpose was to protect the realm. Jon had been all of that, he had devoted his life to what he believed he was meant to be, even if it meant losing those he loved, but it was a lie, he was meant to be more, the heir to seven united Kingdom’s under one house, one thought extinct.. that he hadn’t done

“What shall I tell the others?”

“What will a king do if he has only a few soldiers to defend himself against another who is about to attack him with more”

“I will send a raven to Sam, if we are to go out to battle I do suppose we must first sit down and decide if we can win” Tyrion had not heard from Sam since the last time he wrote about Jon crossing the wall. Hopefully he could tell him more on the size of Jon’s army and what Jon’s intentions are, if her where to succeed.

 

_______________________ 

 

A little more than a week had passed, and Tyrion received a Raven from Winterfell. _Sam_

“Lord Tyrion,

I will be making my way down to Riverrun within the turn of the new moon. Jon’s Has taken the the Greyjoys last remaining ships from Deepwood into the Sunset Sea. He will not be crossing with all his men on foot, as he is taking half of his men with him on the ships. I would say I would keep you informed, but Jon has made it clear, that though he does not wish me harm. he does not tolerate my presence. I feel as I have lost a brother once again -Maester Tarly” 

Tyrion sighed, his hopes of reaching Jon through Sam were shattered. He had been accompanied by Ser Davos, who noted his broken appearance.

“What news has the raven brought this time?”

“Looks like Sam’s initial observation on Jon was correct. He has taken the Greyjoy’s fleet left at Deepwood into the sea”

“It’s a decent sized fleet, Yara will catch wind of it quickly”

“Half his men are still on foot towards Riverrrun and Sam is riding with them until then” Tyrion had barely quenched his thirst since speaking with Durwin, instead finding solace in nibbling his fingernails and pulling on his beard with anxiety. A small patch on his chin showed where he had picked his hair off clean in the last few weeks, his nails chewed down so far his fingers looked swollen and red.

“Jon is refusing to talk to him eh?”

“It appears so” Tyrion remembers when he had disowned Jaime after finding out about Tysha. _he was as much responsible as my father for putting those thoughts into my head_ “Ser Davos, I never apologized for the death of Matthos”

“Loved ones.. the casualties of war” Davos thumped his nubby hand against his thigh “I cannot fathom how he feels being the one to do take her life”

“Aye” Tyrion nodded in agreement, even killing the father he loathed, had left him bitter inside.

_______________________ 

“Lord Tyrion!” A scamper of soft footed thumps ran across the large virtues of the west wing on the the Main Keep. 

“Durwin!” Tyrion smiled as the boy ran to him, a smile larger than the width of his face hiding behind his staple messy hair.

“Have you heard?!” The boys eyes bulged through the blond sweaty fluff that covered them

“your name day is approaching?” Tyrion guessed as he made his way out into a secluded inner garden. It was covered with sweet smelling flowers that Bran had scattered around a small sapling with pale limbs and leaves the color of a woman’s lips after a kiss. 

“No! The merchant ships from Dragons Bay arrived last night!”

“Where you able to get my barrels of that most delicious Pentoshi Pale Amber?” _hopefully he found some of that unappealing but so needed wine of courage_

“Well.. yes I did but! I hear that the Que..!”

“Lord Tyrion!” The husky deep voice of Ser Davos called out for him “your attention is needed in the council room” Tyrion jumped up as the impatience from the mans voice did not sound comforting

“You can tell me all about the merchant talk when I get back” Tyrion called out, Durwin nodded he watched Tyrion wobble his minuscule crooked legs behind Davos lean and ever straight ones. 

As he approached the large wooden table, he noticed the land map of Essos had finally been painted in. It was beautifully detailed, with each port and city meticulously drawn. His chair was placed on the Far East side of Essos, Bran sat on the Sunset Sea side. Tyrion noted how Essos curved upwards and five massive forts were clearly indicated on the curve upwards toward the Grey waste. 

“Yara Greayjoy has allied herself with Jon!” Bronn broke the news quickly not to waist of time. 

“Does anyone know how he manage to do this?” Tyrion muttered in disbelief 

“The only thing he could offer her would be the return of her ships.. her fleet had been depleted by that lunatic of her uncle” Davos offered

“Yara is not the type to be convinced so easily” Tyrion answered his thoughts out loud shaking his head

“Their joined fleet has gone separate ways. Jon has began cutting through Mander, Yara and Tormund are heading South to Dorne” Ser Brieanne of Tarth quipped knowing Jon would have to pass through The Reach. Bronn placed his hand on his temple, he didn’t have an army trustworthy or even remotely large enough to even try to hold off Jon.

“And Lord Arryn?” Tyrion asked hoping to hear that they had deployed soldiers to help Kingslanding.

“They have been sieged from the Gates of the Moon, The boy is still frail and has no experience in defense!” Tyrion fumed

“And the Dragon?” Ser Davos asked 

“Do you suppose Jon will ride the beast into the Eyrie?” Brianne looked at Bran with worry

“I thought Sam had said that wretched beast had flown east!?” Bronn growled 

“Jon cannot ride the dragon..Lorn Arryn has enough provisions to last him two moons” Bran mentioned to calm the group, the candle light in the room pearling his milk white skin, a glint showed through his ever ominous eyes.

“We’ve seen Jon ride the green dragon”

“what’s to keep him from this one?”

The council room was buzzing, each member growing more anxious and feeding off each others fear. “Enough!” Bran finally raised his voice. Its impatient tone reminiscent of his mother, and rough like Neds. 

“Ser Davos? The ships that I asked for are they ready?” 

“Yes we have the five Carraks and Black Betha fully stocked and ready at your command” 

Tyrion rubbed his index finger on one of the five forts in Yi Ti, the paint flaked off as it had not been sealed with the rest of the map. He caught Bran staring at him, embarrassed he flicked his finger and moved his hand away to instead wrap his fingers together. “Jon did not come for a truce, We chose you to be our King and to guide us into a better world”

“You chose me because I had the better story or did you not? Why not Jon? Or Daenerys? Both had equally compelling stories and reached unthinkable heights”

“Jon has shown us to be a wise measured ruler. He has wisdom, patience, and empathy, but he never wanted to rule, or lead, at every stage he has had it thrust upon him he has given it up doubting himself at every turn” Ser Davos recalled

“And Daenerys she was too impulsive, ruthless, and saw the world in black and white, she did not see the in between in mankind, the slavers, usurpers even myself..the traitor would have burned at her hand” Tyrion lamented 

“It seems to me that Kings..and even Queens can be fools when they forget what they are.. they begin to act like who they are, and end up worse when they can only remember what they are and forget who they where” Ser Davos said with a tone so melodic they all sat in silence in its truth

“And neither were a Prince or Princess as the prophets had foretold, which is why you were the one to lead us, you knew the Knight King wanted you, you knew that Arya would be the one to sneak past him and gave her the dagger to kill him with, you where the prince that was promised” Tyrion roared, exasperated that Bran would not fight to defend his kingdom, or even give them and inkling of an idea of what was the purpose of everything. _Jon did not accept his punishment obviously defying the peace that had been worked out with him being exiled, bringing more wars if the unsullied found out_

“And I am not Bran, but the Three eyed raven or were you all to blind and deaf to hear me? But I was still chosen to help build a better world” at this Bran wheeled himself out of the council leaving everyone speechless, stewing in their own actions to late to change their minds. 

Tyrion was the last one seated at the table. Each member had left quietly, without word to the others, each with faces speaking volumes of their melancholy. Sam was the only one not present that had spent time with Bran in the north. How he hoped to speak to him to make sense of everything his head spun again, he remembered Durwin and the wine that had just arrived. He sent for him, he lusted for the sour and vile taste to fill his mouth, to nullify him and steal away his reality in favour of a fantasy.. his only cure.

When the boy finally came, a flagon filled to the brim of the tart Pentoshi elixir was placed in front of Tyrion. He poured himself a goblet equally as full. He swirled the wine, placing his parched quivering lips to the rim of the cup. He waited for it to bring memories of good times past, and to let himself dwell in them rather than think.

“Tell me Durwin, what treasures have the merchant sailors brought to us on their lips from their sails of the seas” he asked between sips, the tension in his neck smoothing out like a cat laying out in the sun.

Durwin smiled and kicked his small legs under the chair, placing his small arms on the table as he closed in on the small man his eyes twinkling in delight “The Queen of Meereen has returned!”

Tyrion lifted his cup and took another gulp sloshing it around his mouth “how much wine did you taste from the merchant vessels again?” he said chuckling.

Durwin furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms in front of him not amused at Tyrion’s disbelief “I overheard the captain of Lord Faros Belly telling the captain of the Moonrunner that he was content the savages had mostly been destroyed” he picked a piece of the cheese Tyrion had on a platter “they where talking about how now the Summer Isles refuse trade with other ports except those belonging to the Queen” 

This seemed to pique Tyrion’s interest, _this is true, spices, amber wines and even the burled wood like the one for my chair have become higher priced_ tried to sit straighter and took a large piece of cheese and bread to try soak up as much of the drink inside of him. He raised his eyebrow “carry on boy”

“Since the queens return the King Regent of Meereen has ended interr..intera..”

“Interregnum?” Tyrion finished the boys word with a belch

“Yes!.. they said that since her return the civil unrest has ended” the boy stopped for his breath, trying to remember what else he caught eavesdropping “and other cities are starting to follow” the boy looked at Tyrion, his face grown pale. Tyrion turned to look at the flagon, it had been completely emptied. His head spun as he tried to make out Durwin, slowly turning into two fuzzy images in front of him, and in that moment he was there and not, existing in two perfect moments of disbelief and hope. He grabbed the Flagon pushing his mouth on the opening, spewing his contents, _I must be dreaming this, I knew I should have given up wine_ his mind going dark.


	22. Daenerys V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show didn’t give much insight on what may be happening in Meereen, so I used some of what the books had to try and put something together. Please excuse if I got something wrong, but I have kids that distract me and I lose my train of thought.

The marble floors felt cool on Daenerys feet, she walked barefoot across her chambers. Her skin glistened with scented oils, still warm from the bath. In front of her, the windows separate partitions where open, letting the dry arid breeze in. Dust danced on its waves, as light scattered through the room, highlighting the fine white linens that covered her bed. On top a red and charcoal dress with a plunging neckline. Shuddering she picked it up  _I cannot wear this, they can see_. She looked around her chamber, her old storage chest sat in front of a large looking glass. The wooden framework of the box was covered with iron sheets, and inscribed “Perzys ānogār” around an ornate three headed dragon, the Targaryen sigil. Carefully opening it, seemingly afraid of bringing out all the things she had pushed into the deepest corners of her mind. Instead of the fears, the mistrust, the doubts, and  all her insecurities she saw beautiful dresses with fine embroidery, jewels, silks and furs, everything she had treasured before she left to those distant lands. She saw it, a cream colored flowing dress that fastened at the neck, it could hide the a jagged red scar that burned in shame. She put it on, growing more accustomed to dressing herself. Doing so gave her a sense of self worth. She started to walk over to the glass to see herself, when a light knock at her doors pulled her away.

As she opened her doors, two guards stood on each side, Alaine looked smaller in their presence. In her hands a small metal box, she handed it to Danearys “I thought you may want these here with you” Daenerys opened the box, inside the dragon statue and the silk pouch filled with almonds from her time in Volantis. Dany smiled “Thank you” she walked over to a console where she had placed them next to a small stack of old books _Ser Jorah, what did I do?_ a single tear fell from her eye. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages, _I wish you where still her to guide me, what will I do without you_ she had not finished reading them she thought, as she studied one of the pages. _Song of Exile. As she_  closed the book, sadness wallowed inside her.

* * *

 

Daario had arranged a spectacular feast for her return. Music played in the background flutes and fiddles, and signing _a harp_. Pyramids of figs, dates and olives towered in front of her. Instead she opted for the honeyed locust rolled in fine spices that lay on a platter, she snuck a bite before being led to her seat. The room fell silent, everyone around had heard rumors of what may have happened in the lands beyond the Narrow sea, yet there she stood fine as ever and glowing. She wore her hair down, the silver shone bright as a fine crown around her head. A simple salad of the late autumn greens dressed in carrots soaked in wine was placed in front of her, followed by egg and lemon soup, smoked hams which she did not touch, lacquered ducks and finally a roasted horse on driftwood fire. She averted in staying with the lighter foods that had been brought out, the taste of red meat made her repulse at the thought. Daario waves it away, and asked for the flavored waters to be brought to the Queen.

“I had promised the Kings and lords of these lands that you would return after your conquest in Westeros.” He started, a composed smile shone on his lips as he gestured with his eyes at all the guests that had come to see of her return, to see that the stories were lies and she was indeed still alive.

Danys stomach dropped, she felt sick of what happened in Westeros, wondering if Daario was aware of the full scope of the situation.

“The red priests have revolted in Qohor for you, and in Quarth they made peace and accepted the conditions” he took a sip from his cup, Dany sat quietly listening to Daario of the becomings while she was away “.. well mostly in fear of your army, dragons, and losing any trade with the west. Volantis is yours as well..you can thank the Red priests for that.” Daario took a bite of a fat black mushroom that smelled of garlic, and washed it down with another gulp of the white wine “Pentos came willingly, as well as Lys, Myr and Tyrosh, since they have been used to sellswords fighting their wars for them, and since there aren't any left to hire” a sly smile crept upon his lips “I promised them general safety under your rule”

“May I ask how this was feasible?”

“Your grace..I fear you have forgotten that I was once a lieutenant of a very prosperous organization” he chuckled as he popped two white cherries in his mouth.

Dany moved her food around with her fork, but never eating it. She felt empty inside. She missed Ser Jorah, Missandie and.. Jon. A sudden flutter in her lower stomach snapped her out of her thoughts. She took a bite of some of the blackberries in sweet cream.

“And Braavos?”

“Braavos stands as one of the few remaining free cities. They refuse to bow to any tyrant and they don't fit the liberation campaign that has been bought by the others”

 _I suppose that’s how everyone sees me_ “well I had expected peace while this provisional government transferred power to the people”

“I thought about that in your leave, but what good would this do if another King such as yourself saw your cities fit to conquer?”

Dany maintained her composure, she had been one of them and a brutal one at that. Now she had no army, no dragons or her trusted advisers to help her through the next steps, she couldn’t trust Daario, or any man now truly.

“You did manage to get rid of the majority of the Dothraki that’s if any might be left? So that placated them..And then the Unsullied made their way back from Westeros with devastating news of your peril” Daario stared deep into Danearys eyes “I feared a revolt and since the slaves had been freed this left a heavy financial burden that needed to be addressed”

“I remembered my upbringing, there was much coin to be made in whores and taverns, so I have set up brothels and taverns through the cities and tax them accordingly to their profit in return for safety”

“May I ask where the unsullied are at? I fear they went to the Isle of Naath”

“They we’re heavily advised not to by many seafarers, only those native to the isle sailed to the island and protect it from any of those who wish them harm”

“Can you tell me about Grey Worm?” Her throat swelled in hopes for his safety

“In the Summer Isles, he has made it that the isles not supply shipments to other ports but ours. spices, gemstones, hardwood timber, and exotic animals come at a high cost now including their whores” he winked and lifted his cup to her.

“Would you send word to have him come to Meereen? Please make it in a way where he is unaware of my presence” Her head hurt, she knew Daario meant well, but she was not in any mood to talk about these affairs.

“As you wish your Magnificence” his voice sticky in stifled longing  
“So may I ask what happened in those lands?”

“I think we can hold off on that conversation until a later time?” _preferably once Torgo Nudho arrives as I myself don’t know..everything_ she mused and started to rise, but before she could lift herself her from her velvet covered seat Daario discreetly placed three fingers on her left hand keeping her from rising. She looked at this man, still very much attractive his boldness shocking her, but it mostly being touched by a man, one she had been previously very intimate with.

“Your going to have to have this conversation sooner than later, there will soon come a time when you won’t be able to hide behind those silks of yours” his eyes desolate and longing. Daenerys pulled her hand away “You have to know a land to rule it..” she quoted his words showing him that she had no intentions to delve into the matter and no interest of laying with him.

“Don’t assume I go along with your mummers act” his face changed, irritation now present “I know the Kingdom fell and the Queen died at your hands..that talk has already made its way to our lands” he fumed

“Then what are you asking me? how I ended back here?!” She growled, though still composed so her guests could not tell of their quarreling

“Don’t feign unawareness, I have been with enough women to know” He frowned at her avoidance to speak the truth.

“Are you questioning me who I have bedded?! I do not think that is of any of your concern!” Her eyes widened, her voice raising enough to stir the closest guests to their table and feigned a smile.  Her attention going back to Daario who had called for another flagon.

“Your already starting to show if you know where to look” he placed the rim of the cup to his lips, the wine barely lingering on his tongue before he took another prolonged gulp. “I told you my mother was a whore, and every woman around her was a whore, and with all whores it’s bound to happen" his voice lowered "seeds quickens in their womb” his eyes raised to hers and she could see his sadness, resent and anger flooding them.

“I will not have you compare me to a common whore!" unconsciously placing a hand on her belly. It was still soft but firm enough to produce a small swell  _but I am barren, the witch had cursed me_ “This is enough” her lips tight as she hissed at Daario.

She quickly got up,excusing herself to her guests “my travels tire me and I must rest, please excuse my absence” Daario raises after her and motioned to the people “Please excuse our Queen, she has not rested from her travels, stay and enjoy this wonderful feast that we have graciously provided” _the guest will keep him busy enough for now_ she quickly made her way to her chambers _how would a man know, he must be mistaken I’ve just had more to eat and less to do during my stay at the temple_ she payed no mind to her guards and pushed open her doors. She slowed down as she neared the looking glass, nervous to see her her full reflection.

She stood before it, her hair shorter than before and unbraided. Her face showed a sadness to it, her skin was pale from covering herself, and still flushed pink. Her eyes slowly made themselves down to her belly, the swell barely visible beneath the loose gown. She loosened the tie behind her neck, watching it slowly make its way off her body and drop to the cold floors. Her nipples gown a darkened shade of pink but paled in comparison to the deep red twisting cut that traversed her chest. _this is the only thing he’s left me_ with she touched it, two fingers running against it ridges that were numb to the touch. Her fingers slid their way down pushing first against the soft muscles between her chest and navel slowly growing firmer on the swell. She couldn't breath. In her chest her heart was racing, beating as loud as war drums, flushing her face in prickling heat letting her know it still worked, fluttering like the life inside her. A choked cry for help forced lodged itself in her throat, and she felt a drop run down her cheek. Every fiber of her being was vibrating with worry and sadness as joy coursed through her veins. Her hands trembled as she cupped her firmness. “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves”. _ _.__ Her hands trembled as she cupped her firmness. _ __and you bear a living child. Then he will return _“and not before.____


	23. Jon VIII

 

The horizon stretched across his entire field of view. It was a massive expanse of dark green and blue waters, small whitecaps lapping against the starboard side, and then retreated. He could hear the winds pick up and rattle the smaller sail, flapping his white wolf in front of the towering black mast. The breeze caressed his skin, nipping at his cheeks. A mix of orange and pink filled the dark blue sky, littered with puffy white clouds that showed red against the dying sun. A wave crashed against the ship, seemingly yelling at him, telling him that he was going to wrong direction. He looked behind him  _he was lost._

He pushed back a wisp of hair that had unraveled itself from its tie. He could feel the stickiness, his hair once soft and shiny, now tussled by the wind and sea. He licked his lips "Dany" he whispered almost tasting her, the sweet taste of skin and salt, the same taste that had grazed his lips before. Seagulls circled in the air, occasionally landing near him, a faint smile cracked on his lips.The warmth from the air had started to be replaced by a chill.

"Jon?" a voiced called from behind him, but he did not stir. "Jon?" she called again, faint and chocked by sadness. He still did not stir.

"I thought you might still need this"

Sansa placed the fur coat on his shoulders in an attempt to help him fight off the cold; but it was inside where he would have needed it most. He had brought her with him, not trusting her or her promises of fealty while he was out at sea, and for the second time did Winterfell not have a Stark.

"Im sorry" she whispered, as Jon pushed off the furs. He preferred to feel the bite  _pain is the only thing that makes me know I am still alive_. She stood near him, watching as the sun faded, and the sky progressively become black, and void.

The seagulls had all but gone, their cries barely just a whisper. The wind had picked up strength, howling and wailing. A mournful song, most did not understand it, and yet Jon did. A deathly chill crawled up his entire body. The waves much larger now desperately reaching for him, trying to pull him over. It’s cold fingers leaching off what remained of his soul, the water colder than the snow.

Sansa had not left his side, her cheeks stained with tears, and salt, her lips peeling and chaffed. The wind blew harder, edging the furious waves on, making them even fiercer. She stumbled back in horror, chocking on a stifled cry. Jon turned to her, watching her as she showed some form of emotion.

"I loved her Sansa"

She stood quietly next to him, her gaze lost in the darkness "I know".

Her words ripped through his his body, sadness swallowed him, every other emotion had been pushed from his being bringing him down to his knees.

"I was honest, forgiving and full of more love for you than you could ever understand"

Sansa pulled up Jon, and held him tight "Arya told me Jon" she squeezed him tight

"I was so mistaken, full of envy, it blinded me", but all she could do was embrace him and let the torrent of his tears to soak through her dress. For no matter what she told him, it was done. Jon clenched his fists, not knowing whether to be mad or to give up hope all together. He could hear Sansa silently screaming, suffocating with each breath she took, holding onto what little was left of her pride. She ran her fingers through his hair, time and time again, in an attempt to calm the silent war within his mind as he sobbed unmercifully. He had been hurt, and cut, beaten and stabbed. Each one painful, and forgotten as time wore on, but this wound was deeper, slowly suffocating him.

"I feell it too Jon, I killed father.. If i had never opened my mouth.." she looked down in shame. Breathy gasps reverberated through their embrace _She was crying_   "I hated myself, I trusted nobody, and the thought of anyone happier than me...I am sorry Jon, I truly am" she sobbed along side him.

Time seemed pass before them, the stars lighting up the sky in silence while the moon cast its light against them _there_ _was_ _once_ _two_ _moons_ he remembered Dany telling him one night on the ship. "Jon?" she called out breaking the silence. He lifted his chin up slighly beckening her to continue "Do you think she is alive?" Jon looked as far as his eyes could see, a vast emptiness ahead, he knew she asked about Arya _she didnt need saving_

 _"_ Shes proably just arriving at whatevers west of Westeros _"_ he smirked _She was the only one to escape these wretched lands._

Sansa snorted "For all its worth Jon, I will pray to the old gods that you find what your searching for" she rubbed his back, and made her way down the galley to her room. Jon turned to look at the night sky one last time  _Please, I beg you, let me join her once again, you brought me back for a reason and all I can think of is to take her light and sacrifice it to the world, please, if your a god of death take me to her._ He made his way back to his own chambers, hoping the Lord of Light would hear his prayer.

* * *

 

The shore was all but sharp rocks and cliffs, indistinguishable from the castle above. The grey-black stone, that made up the towers, bridges and walls where all wet, and adorned with green lichen and bird droppings.The castle shown broken and shattered, weather worn from thousands of years of waves hammering against its grey stone walls. Three barren islands connected by rope and stone bridges, rose from the water, foam bubbling below them.

“it is a miserable place there” Sansa said as she looked past the railing.

Jon scoffed while he watched the boat make its way around the islands to Lords Port. Drums beat in rhythm as oars bobbed up and down in unison

“you’ve obviously never been to the wall” he looked at Sansa. She understood, her throat swallowed a large sore lump as she looked down to her feet.

Yara sat on the Salt Throne, her face showing disdain at the display Jon arrived in.

Inside its walls, Pyke was dark, with the ripe smell of sea water and fish. Jon stood before the Salt Throne, an oily black stone chair carved into the shape of a kraken. Nestled inside a sitting woman, her face gaunt and pale

“You used my own ships, to come here in defiance to your exile?!” She spit at his feet.

"I came here to ask you to once again align yourself to house Targaryen Yara” his voice stern, echoing through the cold damp walls.

“Ha!” The seafaring woman jumped up and made her way towards him, her eyes grey like the murky water puddling near the castle's windows.

“And what makes you think I will just bend my knee on accounts of you asking?” She glared her teeth, holding a salted fish out in front of her and taking a chunk out of the dried leathery skin.

"are you going to come and shove your sword through my heart as well?" she spoke as she chewed and swallowed.

His body stiffened, heat rising to his face. Remembering Tormunds advice, he treads carefully with his words _, Daenerys was her Queen and I had betrayed her_. _She had a right to be soured, and the Iron born never had faith in any Stark none that is..except for Theon._

“I want to continue what Daenerys fought so hard for”

“And what was that?” shoving her long left pinky nail in between her teeth, picking at them and licking them clean with her tongue.

“A better world, one where the Targeryan name can get redemption for its mistakes”

“You must think the Ironborn drink the sea water, you came here with Stark banners” She snickered at him

"Well it’s not like he can just make them appear out of thin air" Sansa scoffed her eyes slowly rolling at Yara

"Aye, maybe you'll find what you came looking for if you keep pushing your eyes back there"

Jon quickly pulled the attention back on him

"Must I remind you that Greyjoys had pledged themselves to House Targeryan?"

"I see no Targeryan here, nothing but a bastard and a rabid dog without a tail"

"Aye, I thought the same too Yara” glaring at Sansa to keep her mouth shut for once “.. until I was told otherwise, and even then, I did not believe" Jon walked towards one of the windows, his hand placed on his hips seemingly lost in thought "that is until he came to me"

As if on command Drogon swept through the air, a gust of wind pushing into the room and moving any loose fabrics within its walls. Yara quickly recognized the black shadow and hurriedly made her way to the same opening. Outside the Dragon flew above her ships, the wolf banners flapped making their presence known to the Iron born.

"Yara, you have no fleet left, and Euron had stripped these islands of its most basic resources." Jon moved back towards the middle of the room, Yara still looking out the window, her hand placed on her hilt unsure of what to make of what was happening

"and we all know your men lack the discipline or size needed to ever stand against a charge of any house on the main land, and the soil here is not good enough to sow"

Yara's eyes dashed to Jon, he made a valid point, the Iron islands had been left weak, with no fleets or timber to build or enough crops to sow they would surely parish if they could not reap soon. Strutting her way to Jon, hand on her scabbard still contemplating his words.

"and what do you propose?"

"Join me and unite all of Westeros, under one house, and we’ll give you timber and grain to rebuild your fleets and feed your men"

"Daenerys gave me back my crown" her eyebrow raising at him

"and you willingly gave it away to Bran" Sansa reminded her puckering her lips and raising both eyebrows as if she let something slip. Yara glared back at Sansa, her hand dashing back to the hilt of her sword ”aye” she grunted.

"Ill give you back half of your fleet, trading timber for your iron, grain for your fish, and safety for your fealty, but if you want your crown.... then I am afraid there will be no negotiations" Jon turned on his heel, and started making his way back out the doors.

“the other kingdoms have not knelt eh? So you need our allegiance to do so” Jon and Sansa stopped midway between Yara and the doors. Sansa was the first to turn around

“He has the North, and the reach will be taken soon enough”

“Edmure?! Ha that mummer of a Lord will bend to his own shadow” Yara hooted, the fireplace roaring behind her, a giant kraken engulfed the flames

“Yara! The only reason I have not lopped your head off is because of your loyalty to Daenerys” Jon snarled at the gaunt woman “You will either join me or die in this putrid place you call a throne on your own bidding” he spat at her “if you so much as think of stepping foot on my lands I will make sure you experience the same cordiality Ramsey gave Theon” he meant for both women to hear. He wanted their ears to perk and soak in the words, to remember that darkness existed in every man.

Yara raised an eyebrow, and kicked her heel out in front of her, tapping her foot in pensive thought, her hands placed proudly on her hips and her shoulders squared “how are you supposed to pass into the Eyrie if that twat of a lord holes himself up? You riding the beast?”

“A dragon is not a slave Yara”

“Daenerys rode him, and it wasn’t her slave” she pondered, seeing agitation in Jon,his hand slowly starting to unsheathe Longclaw

“I’ll join house? Eh..Targaryen? I suppose" she muttered in annoyance "but you’ll have to do something about the banners, my allegiance is with Targaryen’s” she snarled while keeping a steady eye on Sansa.

“We do not have the time to make banners” Jon boomed, hand still firmly placed on his sword “and my mother was a Stark” he muttered _even if I was a bastard in their eyes._

Yara’s eyes seemed to glisten, and a faint smile rose upon her lips “Erzen!’ she snapped, her eyes not breaking contact. Soon after a portly balding man came stumbling through the doors 

“have some men take the chests inside of the Black Wind and place them on the dock" with a small nod the the man scuttled away. Turning her attention back to Jon she smiled "Fire and blood?" to which Jon nodded "Fire and Blood"

* * *

 

Yara called upon for small feast, rejoicing in the commonality the two houses had in common “the Dragons and Krakens, we are not slaves” she spoke to Jon “we take what is rightfully ours, that’s what I loved about her”

Tormund who had been on the ships, had joined them at the head table  
“Now I know why you have prided yourselves on raiding other kingdoms” His face reveled in disgust as he stared at a watery fish stew “that’s why she gave you back your kingdom”

“Your the one to talk! sucking on a giants tit like a babe”

“Aye! But she could feed a babe with them!” He barked back

Jon chuckled at the two equally uncivilized people squabbling beside him. He looked out in front of him, northerners, wildlings and ironborn alike feasting and drinking. Jon looked at his plate a meager thing compared to the hearty foods in the north. He dipped a piece of black hard bread into the liquid substance “it’s really not that bad you know” grilled mackerel fillets with simple salt and pepper paired with a savory cabbage and black cod stew.

“It’s getting harder to get spices, oils and wines from the east now ya know” Yara mentioned to Jon

“We can survive without your allegiance, we always have” she held her spoon in front of her contemplating either her next words or bite, Jon could not tell   
“I’m afraid something is stirring in Essos, the men say the dragon banners still wave and cities are folding to the Queen” she scoffed and took the bite. Jon raised his eyebrow “Daenerys had left a sellsowrd in charge of establishing a new governance in her place”

“Aye, but that was I suppose because she could never have a direct heir” she took a cup of ale to her mouth, swishing the cold golden liquid in her mouth, and swallowing with a gulp.

“I suppose” Jon said trying to not think about all the nights he had spent with Dany on a ship. she had suffered so much and blessed with destruction..her only children.

“Daario Naharis” she glanced at Jon.

He was spooning the stew into his mouth, contemplating why the gods had been so cruel. He looked up at the name, he thought he had heard it before “the sellsowrd?”

“That, and her lover, the King Regent of Meereen” Yara grinned. Jon pushed away his food and rubbed his head. He was comforted that Sansa was not there to hear. She had decided to dine in the comfort of the ship, than in the dank halls of Pyke with Yara.

“I would assume a woman of her beauty would have many men fawn over her, take Jorah for example” he naively tried to convince himself this was the same.

“Jorah didn’t fuck her” Yara took a bite of the bread. Tormund, who had been busy trying to explain to the ironborn that fermented goats milk was an actual delicacy turned around at the conversation.

“and what is it of our concern that she lay with this man?” Jon uttered in annoyance 

“It is..if he’s using the Targaryen name falsely under his regency bringing himself to power in the east” she looked at her people, older men, and young boys with fatigue written on their faces “Westeros cannot afford to hold off to the East.. were broken, and each time imports cost more and more, we can no longer provide enough tin or iron to compensate”

“Yara I need you to help unite Dorne to us, they have not suffered the same casualties that we have” Jon pushed himself back against his chair rubbing his right temple “Bran knew what would happen and he let us all fall into that trap”

“The freefolk are mostly women and children, the North’s men are dwindling, the riverlands well” he let out a small laugh “the crown still owes the iron bank for the loan Cersei took and the man handling coin is a sellsowrd with a need to folly in brothels and whores” Jon knew that much, Sansa had told him one night on the ship.

“The Grand Maester has one link? How could he go from Crow to Maester?!” She snickered

“The same way an imp that was imprisoned became hand” Jon sneered.

“The council is a joke” Yara huffed

“Everyone except the big woman” Tormund pipped in, not learned enough to know of southern customs.

“Aye” Yara and Jon said in unison

“So your telling me he knew the whole time?” Tormund glanced at Jon

“that’s what he made it sound like”

“He knew he’d be crowned King”. . Yara took a sip from her cup “he said as much in the dragon pits”

He let countless of people die and suffer, he let Euron kill her child..he knew..he let it happen. Tormund gripped Jon’s shoulder he understood the silence, he had lost his sons and only had Munda left.

“We need to bring our men together”

“I agree...it’s not our men I’m afraid of”

He had been beyond the wall long enough to not notice the trading galleys making their way to Westeros. It was concerning to know the ships brought goods that could not be afforded by the common folk or even the lords. Most of all he disliked the knowledge of another man using the Targaryen name. Not just any man, her lover...Daario Naharis.

“Well let our men rest and prepare to sail after four days time” Jon told Yara as he got up from his seat. In his hand a flagon of ale which he rose to hers and proudly placed upon his lips taking a long swig in an attempt to drown out his thoughts.

* * *

The wind blew gently, barely billowing the ships sails that night. It crept silently along the rails, through its galley and into the captains quarters. Jon laid upon his bed, the porthole open, and a glowing waterfall of light trickling in. A gust of wind lifted the linens on his bed, a late night lover making its presence known. A sweet and slightly salty aroma accompanied the wind drifting in, taking him back to sailing by her side _She is a god, and_ She had been a bridge out the lonely fortressed he had become. He got up, and closed the porthole and with it the glorious scent, she was gone. The bridge severed by his own hands.

Now, no matter what he did or who he aligned himself with, he was alone _I_ _wish_ _I_ _could_ _go_ _back_.. _Dany_. He grabbed the down stuffed sacks he rested his head on weeping until no more tears came, cradled asleep by the gentle motion of the ship.

Soon the fleet sailed proudly in different directions. Yara and Tormund sailing south to Dorne, while Sansa and Jon went straight east from Pyke into the Stormlands. They had to convince the newly established lords to join House Targaryen. He needed Westeros United, surrounding the Crownlands and the Vale. It would deny giving Bran an army to command. Lord Arryn had nowhere to go but out to sea, where his fleet would await if his plan worked


	24. Tyrion VII

Tyrion stood silently by Bran, the trumpets sounding in the background. Where they stood he could see the Targaryen sigil waving proudly on the masts of the ships, and the platoon of men that marched on foot. It was too far for his eyes to see, but it looked different somehow, a white spot in the middle of the red ring.

“He’s here” Tyrion said quietly “He has managed to unite all but two of the Kingdoms”

“Did you have doubts he would?”

“No, your brother always had a way with people”

“That is why the Northern houses named him King of The North”

They had swarmed Kingslanding like ants, dressed in the very recognized blood-red scarlet of the Targaryens. Their tents had been erected in tidy rows much like the unsullieds. Two thousand men at least, stood outside. Their eyes unblinking as they awaited their liege and these were just the Bannermen, each and every one of them.

Tyrion made his way down the ramparts and onto the gatehouse tower. Below him, he could see Brienne was dressed in white plate leading the Kinsguards down the bailey. He did as Bran had asked, and ordered the gates opened. They creaked and groaned in appeal, letting the army march into the main bailey. A chorus of the ravens could be heard against the sounds of armor and metals, he could still hear the voices, the clash of metal against metal, the pounding of horses hooves and the screech of the dragon. He now stood above where he, along with knights, and peasants had stood so many moons ago.

Durwin stood nearby, holding a small sword and light armor as if he was a knight. Though he knew that was not to be for another few years. His blond hair had once again messed up and was whistling a low tune to calm himself. Tyrion’s blood pounded, deafening his ears, the whistling becoming faint and the sun seared his eyes as a flash of light struck across the gates entrance. 

He rode upon a black stallion armored all in black. On his breastplate was the three-headed dragon and the head of the wolf, the combined sigils of his Houses, wrought all in rubies and pearls that flashed like fire and snow in the sunlight.

“Lord Tyrion?”

“Lord Tyrion?!” Durwin was calling him

“Yes?” He answered slightly annoyed

“Is that him?”

it’s a wolf the white spot is a wolf in the heart of the dragon Tyrion faintly smiled

He nodded. The boy stood in awe, watching the procession unfold. Tyrion couldn’t blame him, Jon’s composure shown as regal as Daenerys. He patted the boys back and walked away, heading down the ramparts and into the main bailey. As the sun quickly disappeared behind a large shadow, fear and dread coursed through the minuscule man Drogon

Tyrion knew taking the black had taught Jon, that death on the wall was in service to the lives of men. It was the greatest glory he could ever hope to achieve. He had lived his life as a bastard, no true wolf, a quiet observer. Since his birth he had been plunged into the harsh world of the winter. He had been constantly tested, for it would come. The wolves had pit his wits and will against the darkness and the cold it brought. For the lions had killed the other dragons. A great beast hidden away under the guise of a wolf, a bastard, no true heir, unexpected to return.

The dragon began to circle the lion, scales of black steel, a longclaw shining against the giant shadow mimicking the night. Eyes glowing red, like rubies birthed from the doom itself. The dragon had emerged from the den savoring the scent of its next meal. It was not fear that gripped the lion, only a strong sense of things to come. The cold air bit into his lungs, hands unsteady giving himself up for dead. 

It had taken years since the wolves had harbored the dragon against the cold. The winter had shown its darkness, an army of slaves, both dead and alive, vast and beyond anything imaginable. The dragon had fought bravely like a wolf, for that’s all he had known, and came out alive. Only realizing after, that he had more than teeth and claws, he had wings, and fire.

Now the beast had returned to its people, a wolf, a dragon, a King. Ready to snuff out his true enemies in the hope for reason and justice.

The beast approached, and it was Tyrion himself who had provoked it. He had taken the only thing a dragon could hold dear, For the lion had shown him another, making him believe it would devour his wolves. Jon’s eyes told the story plain and clear.

“I believe we last saw each other inside these walls”” Jon remarked

“You had been sent to the wall if I remember right”

“Aye, it was you and Bran if I remember right”

“You’ve picked up some scars along the way” Tyrion’s lip slightly falters, he remembered this encounter on Dragonstone

“It’s been a long road, but where both still here” Jon unmounted his horse “I’m Jon” he adjusted the hilt of his sword “Targeryan, since I haven’t forgot what I am”

Tyrion cleared his throat “Come, Bran awaits” Imagine what would they could have accomplished together. “let us walk, to cool our tongues”

“If you value your lives over...”

“Listen Jon.. Aegon?”

“It doesn’t matter” Jon responded in irritation

“Bran sees all, and can control and conquer everything he lays his eyes upon”

“I’ve seen”

“see rumor has it..”

“Thank you Tyrion, that will be enough” Brans voice called from the entrance to the Great Keep”

“Bran” Jon huskily retorted

“I see you have brought the lords of conquered lands to the city steps”

“You let my Queen die”

“She threatened people with submission or death”

“I would choose my words carefully ..Brother” Jon raised an eyebrow and straightening himself

“I have chosen my words carefully, Aegon”

Tyrion watched as the two men, more creatures then men whom even Tyrion could no longer distinguish whom they had been, took stance in the large stone walls of the keep. There was no question, the army Jon brought was well assembled. With knowledge of the terrain of Westeros they could easily destroy them, pinned against the coast with ships their King refused to sail.

“Westeros would have burned”

“You let her children die, you let our men die” Jon spat

“It needed to happen”

“We have funneled the Vale into the Gate of the Moon, their numbers will count for nothing, we have blocked you from a coastal attack”

“Trust the Gods Jon”

“you have no choice but to abandon your position as King”

“Im nothing more than a remnant of time, before Westeros ascent from the darkness”

“you have cost us quite enough already”

“It is known, for men have souls as black as hell, Westeros will fall, Essos will fall, trust not in men, and honor the Gods”

Tyrion did not understand, he saw Jon’s frustration. The gods had never favored Jon, and faith in men had taken everything from him. Tyrion, he who had thought himself so wise, now felt worthless, rotten and corrupt.

“It will take more than the words of a lecherous man, to have faith in the gods that set fire to all that I loved”

“It had to be done to save the world of men”

The door creaked open, releasing Tension from the room. A sudden relief coursed through Tyrions veins. “Sam!”

The stubby man walked in hurriedly, beside him his son.

“Jon!” he cried “Please don’t”

Jon who had been pacing the room, hand on his hilt faced him with hate in his eyes “I had vanished you to the wall!”

Sam looked at Tyrion, his eyes apologetic He never told me Jon had sent him away

“I know Jon” he stuttered “Its just, I couldn’t take Little Sam I had to bring him back to Gilly”

“Then do it and be gone”

“Its..Its..just..That ” he stuttered more “Little Sam ran off on our way back”

Jon looked down and saw the boy, bruised and dirty, his hair a mess of tangles “and what is it of a concern of mine?”

“everything Jon..you see…you died for a reason”

“and what reason was that Sam?, so I could plunge my knife into the heart of the woman who saved us from death?”

“well in a way yes” Sam began to sweat “and no, Jon it was to save mankind”

“Well there I saved them, to rule over them in years of unrequited peace” Jon sarcastically remarked 

“It will never end Jon” Bran interrupted “men will always want to conquer, that is what is in their nature”

“The Whitewalkers were made to destroy the world of men” Sam added I read it in a book in the Winterfell library when little Sam ran off wondering through the keep”

“Well we should count ourselves lucky they are gone, Arya plunged the catspaw deep into its heart”

“They will never be truly gone” Sam fidgeted “the maiden of light has turned her back against us”

“...and the lion of the night will punish the wickedness of men” Bran wheeled himself closer

Tyrion remembered reading once about the God-on-earth, and his descendants, the many emperors of Yi Ti. The Blood Emperor had usurped the Amethyst Empress in a blood treason and caused the long night, but they were just stories.

“Tyrion, how many times have lannisters been the downfall of Targeryans and Starks?”

“More than I can count, unfortunately” He said a remorsefully

“why do you think that is?”

“unfortunate series of events I can only presume”

“It’s been a long time of these events unfolding to bring us to this point” Bran assured the men, Jon unsheathed Longclaw “tell me you had nothing to do with her death”

“I would be lying if I did Jon”

Jon picked up Bran with one hand, his limp body hanging from Jon’s hand clasped around his pale throat

“Jon!” Sam protested

“darkness will come again, as long as men exist power and corruption will too” Tyrion said outloud

“And this surprises us?” He looked at Tyrion

Bran struggled to breath, his face turning red and purple, gripping at Jon’s hand.

“I’m so tired of all of this”, Jon threw Bran across the floor, he lay as the day he fell from the tower, his legs twisted and his arms splayed beside him. Tyrion walked over to Bran and help him sit up “I do not desire being a King, and neither did you” Bran adjusted himself as he looked at Tyrion  “It took her death for you to embrace who you are”

“I learned to late I am afraid”

“Jon you are King in the North and heir to the Throne, the Seven Kingdoms can be united without any further bloodshed!” Bran wheeled close to Jon and grabbed his hand ”you are where you are meant to be”

 “Jon if you were not a Targaryen, and she wanted to marry you then you would have had to deal with the questions of what you would then become. A King by marriage as a bastard without any claim to the throne? A lowly consort to the queen?” Tyrion quipped, a question he always had when he noticed their relationship growing stronger 

“What does this matter now?” Jon fretted “she’s dead because of you, and by the gods I will kill you for that”

“Your destiny is not over Jon” Bran smiled “to find the truth you must go east, there are things worth fighting for”

“There’s nothing left for me to fight for”

“You took the black thinking you had nothing for you.. things are never what they seem” he turned to look at Tyrion _You will take him to Meereen and say not a word, for he needs to see the truth and not from you.. as you’ve done enough_ Tyrion heard Bran through his thoughts, and a chill went down his spine

“before you kill him, take Tyrion with you”


	25. Daenerys VI

Daenerys sat alone, a half-eaten melon, bread and a glass of milk stood before her. Inside her heart was a stew with meaty chunks of trauma, and a variety of treasons floating in a bowl of survival. The gods had handed her a life filled with sorrows, and regret. She never had a true childhood, and had been on run for the entirety of it. Raised by many men, and a brother, who raised her to sell as a brood mare for their own personal gain. She was a pawn, to use to go back to a land where the same people that killed her family, ruled on a metal throne built from the blood of Targeryan enemies. To get back what was taken from her, that would be her mission, she had told herself.

  
She had sacrificed everything, being a mother, love, happiness, friends, an easy life. She sacrificed everything to be the ruler that she had believed herself to be. And, with each step.. each person she had deemed unworthy that she killed, for every good person that she saved by putting her friends and her lovers in harm’s way…each step closer, would solidify her destiny to sit on that mangled seat of swords. Because only then would her life have been worth it, she told herself.

She finally had found love in someone her age, someone suitable, who seemed to love her back, who seemed to be an honorable man. She had finally stopped running, to live for the first time,

  
_my Gods! I could have had it all, I could have had love, a family with my children. I could have had it all . . . But no! bloody hell! I had gone too far to turn back. It was too good to be true. I was not wanted, I was not loved there. Even after I had given myself to him, and his family entirely, and gave him many, many choices, many options for him to see clearly...that I could be..I thought I could be a good leader.. we could have done it together, he didn’t, he was disgusted at the thought, of who I was._

  
It had broken her, as a human being, as a woman, as a lover, she was completely alone. She saw herself hurt and confused. All she had known was pain, sacrifice, and abuse. All she had known was people turning on her, people betraying her, and she saw herself on top of the dragon and making that choice..  
She rubbed her hand in a slow circular motion around her swell. “I will not let you suffer the same fate I did” she whispered.

* * *

 

“You and I walk a fragile line” Daario spoke to Daenerys, as he approached her from the side. Dust lifted with the swirls of air his movements made on the straw covered ground. Daenerys stood in front of The Silver and rubbed the soft spot on its snout, saying nothing in return. He leaned against the bricks that separated the stables. It was dark and all too quiet at the ground level of the pyramid. In her hand a torch lighting the outlines of their faces. She couldn’t trust anyone now, she turned and faced the eastern walls, the three elephants had grown to more than fifty, A smirk rose upon her lips

“you going over to those foreign lands.. a big mistake”

She held her breath, her eyes went cold _I won't lose you again_ she protectivly grabbed at her growing midsection.

“don't leave me like this Daenerys, you're all I wanted. I stood there and watched you walk away From everything we had, But I still mean every word I said to you”

_She knew he would try to take away the pain, and that he just might make her smile, But the whole time she was wishing it was him instead_

“Something in me feels like I’m holding on to nothing, I thought I had everything figured out, but it all went terribly wrong, It had been all I ever wanted” she started walking away, the dimly lit level made them look like shadows

“Who was he?” his voice called out, echoing off the arches and bricks. She froze, shadows looming above her, dancing with the flickering movement of her torch _He deserves as much to know..tell him_

“He was the heir.. of the iron throne ..” she looked Daario in the eyes, almost black in the shadows, a thick curl drooped down his face. She stepped closer, she saw him again, her hand lifting up just a little in a tired effort to cusp his face. The torch flickered again, and he was gone, brown eyes stared back, she dropped her hand “The true King” _King_ , the walls echoed back.

* * *

A javelin violently pierced a large plank where a mans silhouette was drawn. The weapon protruding from the silhouettes head. 

“I do not want to sacrifice my people.”

“This gives them a way to stay out of the prisons” Daario took the javelin off the plank and came back to Daenerys. Two shackled men, could be seen making their way to a line of other shackled men

“The people want battles, so the Queen gives them battles. You get the people”

“Useless bloodshed” Daenerys rolled her eyes.

In front, the men are being dusted with lime for pests and disease. Daario walks towards them and addresses them. As this took place, she sees a lion in a cage being fed, vultures tear at the remains of a pile of corpses. She realizes the lion was eating human parts, her heart stopped, and she felt ill at the sight.

She could see other men exercising their skills, grunting and yelling surrounding the grounds.

“rich men pay for this entertainment”

“Well.. I will not pretend to enjoy the sadism of the people”

“the people love bloodshed” Daario said with a hint of delight. Daenerys raised her eyebrow in discontent, she knew it to well.

“the prisoners can refuse, but many choose to fight. They get a day out of their shackles, and fed well from their sponsors”

“and the freemen?”

“the rich men can entice a freeman to fight for a small amount, if they win, they gain their opponents coin” he laughed “they both win…that is unless they lose”

Daenerys looked out to the arena, she bent down and picked up a handful of dirt, rubbing it between her fingers and watching it fall to the ground

“When is the next fight?”

“Three moons from now” Daario looked at her inquisitively

“Let them know that during the next fight that The queen would like to gift the winner enough gold to help them make a living for themselves, if he is a prisoner of mine, he can win the gold to pay back those he has harmed, and gain his freedom”

Daario sputtered in confusion “I do not think the crown should pay for them, it would wreak havoc in your kingdom”

“The crown will not pay for their freedom, their own people will” she dusted her hands off, and looked at the sky hoping to see her son once again. “begin charging those who come see the fights, half will go to the winner the rest to the crown”

“and the sponsors?”

“let them feed the willing prisoners or freemen of their choosing, let them win the smaller battles between themselves, if their fighter wants to stop then it will be our job to protect them, in the end the gods get to choose”

* * *

 

Torgo Nudho stood attentive as the soldier he was for so many years, but he seemed indifferent with the guards. Daenerys could see him past the sheer curtains that covered the entrance to the Hall. The guards swipe open the curtains, his eyes following the trail down the long marble hall ligned with towering pillars. His eyes widened as they set on the woman sitting on the plain ebony bench at the end of the hall. He took a couple steps toward the light, and dropped to his knees.

"We thought you were dead!"

  
"Close" Daenerys said as she walked toward Torgo Nudho. Her silk slippers, barely making a sound as she approached him. She knelt beside him and gave him the warmest embrace. He looked up, eyes moist and glossy

"I thought I had seen you for the last time. How long have you been in Meeren?" 

"Almost all winter" she stood up, uncomfortable with the pressure of her growing child. His eyes fixed on her 

“Did he know?” he gasped as he rose from his knees

“I didn’t know myself”

I vowed to kill your enemy, and I failed” Torgo Nudho said with a heavy heart

“You have tried to make Essos prosper in my name” she smiled “You have risked your life for me more times than not, and I will never forget it. And I swear by the Gods my eternal friendship to you.”

“You gave me freedom, trust, and without you I would have never known love” he leaned in and placed a small peck on the crown of her head. Dany looked up at him, her first genuine smile crept up on her face. She still had a friend, one she could trust. A tear rolled down her cheeks

“Crying not good for the babe” his face back to it emotionless state. Dany laughed at his concern

"Come with me please, there is much I need to know"

* * *

 

A cool wind was blowing on her terrace. Sighing with relief she slipped into the warm waters of her pool. A candle flickered nearby, she closed her eyes and the memories came flooding Dany wrapped her arms around around a mans body, pressing herself against his back. She remembered his scent, it was of blood, and smoke and ash. Remember, she told herself. Remember how he felt. She kissed him on his shoulder he turned

“My Queen?”

“Hmm?” Daenerys hummed trying to get back her dream, letting the water relieve the pressure on her lower back.

“Lord Naharis is here to see you” Alaine quietly asked, trying not to disturb. She tilted her head back and rested it against the stone ledge.

“I suppose” she dipped herself deeper into the water “you can let him in”

She could hear his footsteps approaching her terrace, barely audible under the water.

“We need to talk about the child” He cleared his throat as he neared the pool.

“What concerns you?”

“The lords have begun to talk, as I expected”

“And what do they say?” She had barely lifted her head above the water line.

“They wonder who is the father” he cleared his throat again.

“What do you answer?” She rose, her hair sleek and shining, small rivulets of water highlighting her collarbone.

“I have done my best to change the topic of conversation, but it grows obvious as impatience rises on their faces”

“It is of no concern to them”

He walked around to the other side of the pool, closing onto the lip of its edge. Daario stared intently at Daenerys, she could not read him. 

“They say the Westerosi do not give name to a child born out of wedlock, or to the low born”

Daenerys scoffed “let them think what they want,their insolence bores me"

“Essosi do not believe in bastardy, but do believe an ill born heir can cause war” he kneeled down to be closer to eye level.

“They know of the destruction of Kingslanding and it worries them that this child will bring that to Essos, they feel you left under duress” _in_ _that_ _they_ _suspect_ _right._

“Do not worry about the Westerosi” Torgo Nudho had told her Jon had been exiled to the Wall. “My child’s father is no threat”  _But_ _he_ _was_ a _threat_ , _she_ _had_ _the_ _scar_ _to_ _prove_ _it._

“They hear that Westeros has been reformed to one Kingdom, with a fleet that can compete with ours”

“The crippled King will not sail the seas for my child, let’s not concern ourselves with concerns of the Westerosi”  _they_ _think_ _I_ am dead, _my_ _child_ _is_ _no_ _threat_ _if_ _they_ _do_ _not_ _know_ _he_ _exists._

“Daenerys, it’s close enough where the people can think the father is from our lands..”

_he insinuated an ideal she was not comfortable with_

She rose from the water, her body fully exposed to Daario. Her stomach now visibly firm and round, a ripple pulling under its skin. Alaine hurriedly wrapped Daenerys in her robe. Daario eyes diverted from her body, she was now visibly heavy with child.

“My child is Targaryen for those who may wonder, we came from these lands lest other forget”

Daario stood up in silence, and bowed his head.

* * *

 

The markets were bustling, merchants selling pottery, glassware and cloth. People chatted with shopkeepers negotiating purchases. Sparkling fountains throwing upwards their grateful spray in the summer air.

Unsullied passed to and forth with buckets of bronze, cast in

the most graceful shapes. Women stationed at frequent intervals with baskets of succulent fruits and flowers.

Among the crowd, ladies, faces covered with veils, are attended by paid help.

Daenerys could not believe what she sees from her terrace. The markets flowed with commerce, each vendor and buyer equally opportunistic at the variety of goods available on these shores. 

“Meereen is growing” she beamed with joy. It had changed dramatically in a short amount of time. She made her way back 

"The fat man with fancy clothes had it made like you requested" Torgo Nudho mentioned as Alaine came back smiling with a silver two-handled drinking cup. She laughed at his description of Illyrio Mopatis.

The cup she had brought, stood as tall as small child. Engraved on it was Daenerys with her three dragons in front of a pyre, Her Silver, and the Dothraki Kneeling. The other side of the cup depicted men and women being unchained, and the Targaryen Sigil. The handles decorated with stars, a moon and sun.

"How does he look?"

"Fat and bored" Alaine said with a smile "I told him you were indisposed"

"Thank you" Daenerys did not trust Illyrio, but he knew enough men that would prefer to use their coin in the pits than in a whore house. 

"Did anyone else accompany him?” She asked inquisitively, Illyrio did not usually travel alone.

"Some fool from Braavos..Tyscho I herd" Torgo Nudho responded

“What did he desire?” Concern grew in her tone. She knew it was him who had granted Cersei another loan.Without it she would have not been able to purchase the Golden Company.

“to purchase aurochs”

"How many do you dare say we have?"

“The seas produce enough to feed our armies, and your dragon if he were to return” he turned to look into the east, swiping themoisture accumulating on his brow.

“The land needs water for it to thrive”

“When I stayed in the Temple of R’hllor in Braavos, they had a river made of grey stone running through the city” Alaine mentioned 

“Sweetwater” She whispered remembering her childhood, a lingering memory of the lemon tree outside her window.

“Torgo Nudho pleaae send men to Braavvos, and have them learn how the Sweetwater river works” 

“My Queen, Braavos will not take kindly to the unsullied in their lands”

“You will be escorting Tyscho back with a gift of some of our finest cattle. I’m sure once there you can find a stone mason with knowledge on the aqueduct” she turned back to look at the city from her terrace.

“Before our name became common on the tongue of the known world, we where nothing more than simple shepherds in a providence of warlords and cattle raiders” she felt at the tips of her upbraided hair between her fingers “Together we’ve brought kingdoms together...with fire when necessary, with a treaty when possible”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Create a nation out of fire worshipers and former slaves that will rival any great Kingdom, Together we will bring Valyria back from the ashes”

* * *

Daenerys layed in the bed, pain clear on her face. She screamed every five seconds, hoping the baby would come easily. Though, that wasn’t the case. Daenerys tried breathing like the midwife suggested, yet, still, her nerves continued to wear her down. She couldn’t shake her thoughts of the day she had lost her son. It was all my fault her eyes fluttered with pain.

Daario had been pacing the pyramid, he had been irritable she could see it in his eyes. He had not once asked about a name, or gender, and would avert his eyes when speaking to her. He still loved her, she knew that, or he would have left long ago. Everything beyond the Bone Mountains or Braavos, where the only two areas where her kingdom did not yet reach.

She was hot, heavy and in pain. Her constant pressure had been released earlier in the day, a warm trickle of water coating her thighs, it felt like her nightmare would never end. Torgo Nudho had left to Braavos two moons ago, much to his dissatisfaction. He had left her with Alaine, a few unsullied and Daario.

“Do you need water?”Alaine chanted

“Is the position comfy enough for you?” the midwife asked again, she had lost track of the amount of times she had been asked.

The pain of labour was just as intense as the fear and confusion that grew with the passing of time, she couldn’t keep track as the candles had been replaced when she knocked them over in pain. 

Her stomach tightened again, she heard her own scream unaware of even opening her mouth to make it. Nothing could be more brutal, not whips or chains, nothing except the loneliness of it all.

Daario came in, concern passing through his face. It quickly faded once he saw the screams were just a primal guttural sound of labor. He made his way to a corner near the room, and opened the curtains letting a fresh breeze blow in. He was unmoving, waiting, watching and trying to not overstep his boundaries.

When the pain passed, she had a brief moment to shift positions, she breathed. Her eyes were closed, unwilling to engage with life outside of her own body. Alaine pressed a wet cloth on her forehead, wiping it down across her neck and collarbone.

“Is the position comfy for you?” 

To reply she had to find her voice from the deepest recess of her throat. She couldn’t talk, her teeth clenched together like a wolfs jaws upon its prey. She had to drag herself forward, to find her voice. She screamed like her insides where being ripped out with a knife, she screamed, and cried, and ripped at her sheets. The pain shearing through her, she saw Jon holding her, she felt the knife push into her heart, she balled the blood stained sheets in her fists, and screamed all her feelings into the wind.

“Waaah!” There it was, the most glorious sound she had ever heard. She opened her eyes. The midwife placed the pink and wet body, tinged with blood onto her chest. Everything blurred in the background, as if all the earth was instantly ushered into a glowing light. No one else existed in that moment. The little face tilted up and Daenerys looked into those new eyes,perfectly grey and reaching out for her warmth, her love. In that instant she knew she would do anything to protect her child. She was a mother and would always be.

A rumbling screech tore through the sky as thunder outside her terrace. She looked passed the flapping curtains into the red and orange sky, tinged the same color as a hearths fire in the winter. 

“Your brother is home sweet prince”

 


	26. Jon IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, and I have condensed it so we can get him finally to Daenerys. The next very short chapter is Tyrion, this is where we will see them finally see Daenerys. Then ill have another long chapter with Danys POV

His rough weathered hand lightly brushed the wooden planks of the carracks, watching as a man clad in black walked through the port towards a woman. He could hear the faint laughter of a child, it was Sam Tarly. He quickly left the area, to join where the armor clad ironborn stood amidst the boats, loading enough necessities for the voyage.

As he turned to join the troops, a shaggy white dog caught his eye, as it sat near a loading dock. A feeling of melancholy filled his chest as he remembered when life was peaceful and innocent. Quickly he brought himself back to the reality of the cold day, and to the soldiers that awaited his signal. He nodded.  
A small man in shackles is being pushed up the ramps. Barely keeping his steps, scrambling to find them when he feels the heavy thrust of a guard.

“Your grace? Do you think he's plotting something?”

“He's been plotting for years” Jon grumbled as he checked the rest of the cargo being loaded.

“He just has these boats made?” Gendry looked at the berth

“From what I hear”

“I just wonder.. why give you his new ships?” He asked Jon while rubbing the scruff that grew on his chin. Jon shrugged

“He said they would be needed” Jon had no trust in Bran, and had arranged that he sail in The Black Betha. He was leaving the rest of his fleet in the hands of Gendry, to facilitate the need to quench any resistance during his leave if it were to arise.

“How long do you expect?” Gendry inquired while he scrapped at some gravel with his boots

“Well, unless Bran has plotted for my demise, I would hope a few moons” He turned to examine the bay. It was clear skies.

“And if you like those lands?” Gendry joined Jon’s viewing of the bay

Jon barely turned his head, but he could see the slightly younger man searching the outline of the water’s edge _He misses someone_

“I do not go for conquest; a single person cannot rule the world” _not even Dany could conquer it own her own_ “but I distrust the man that still waves the dragon in her name”

“merchant cogs have been arriving with tales of the dragon banners spreading in Essos”

“Do you accept this honor I have burdened you with during my leave?”

“With all my heart, no.. I do not even know how to be a lord, let alone the Lord Protector of a kingdom!”

“that is why it must be you...Your a good man Lord Baratheon, take care of my lands until my return”

he took off his gloves off his right hand, holding it out for Gendry to shake,dismissing the younger mans denial for the task. After a moment, the other man reached for Jon’s mottled hand and shook.

“I suppose our families have a lot of history with each other?” He mussed being held tightly by Jon’s form grip.

“Let’s make things right” finally releasing his hold on Gendry, he remembered the day he first met him on dragonstone. This time the war they fought was a silent one in their heart.

“Yara will help bolster your men and maintain peace on the land. Sansa will be going back to Winterfell, where she will be kept watch by Ser Brienne of Tarth until Tormund returns to take her place”

Gendry chuckled and looked at Jon who tried to keep a composed face, failing miserably at doing so.

“And Bran?”

“Ah yes.. Bran” Jon rubbed the back of his neck “he is to be taken to the Skycells, until my return” he paced the port for a brief moment, he knew the only weirwood there was in the throne, as the throne itself.

“If I fail to return, Lord Arynn is to throw him from the moon door..and if Lord Arynn fails to do so.. you have enough men to siege the lands and cut them from supplies” Gendry understood and nodded in agreement

“Your still scrawny, indulge yourself in finer foods and wine” he jests to Gendry in the hopes to cheer him up

“I do suppose you’ll be taller in Essos in your boots, I hear they all wear sandals there” he jested back

“Take care of our lands cousin” Jon winked at him, leaving Gendry to ponder on that thought.

 

* * *

 

“we follow it through” Davos motioned to an opening between the islands. Jon stared out into the horizon on the starboard side. The sun beamed down on his face, squinting as he tried to make out the shoreline at one of the inlets of the Stepstones. He could make where several warships had been beached on one of the isles. Their sails where unfurled, oars loose with empty rowing benches, and sand swirled inside their bellies, as the galley sailed past them.

“Pirates” Davos grunted

“Pirates?” Jon chuckled, he had always considered Davos being a pirate. This was before he became the onion knight and subsequently a close mentor to him in the past.

“Aye, they run rampant out here, some even think enough gold can make them a lord”

“seems to be somewhat true” Jon eyed Davos, still a little soured at his quick rise to Master of Ships under Bran's rule

“I was a smuggler, we are different” Davos tapped his fingers against the wooden railing.

“Legends say Westeros and Essos were once joined by a great land bridge” He tried changing the subject “These island are all that is left, from when the Disputed lands connected too..”

“The arm of Dorne” Jon answered dryly, he had heard this story from Old Naan growing up, the children of the forest had raised a water hammer to break the bridge. He looked at the scattered islands and feigned boredom, he was tired of hearing children’s stories. They always ended well in his eyes.

“Aye, you know the story.. now it’s nothing more than a border without a kingdom”

  
Drogon for the most part had been keeping pace with the Galley, gliding quietly above them, even though he could pick up speed faster than the ships. Though, something was different, the usually quiet shadow had become restless the last few days at sea.

“I think he might kill us now..” Tormund sniggered.

“Have you seen him eat anything?” Davos asked Jon with worry in his tone.

“I suppose he’ll eat when he’s hungry” Jon shrugged, looking at the dragon as he snarled at nothing.

“What Do they eat?” Tormund queried, Jon thought back when Sansa had asked Dany that very same question

“whatever they want”

Davos and Tormund turned pale at the thought. Drogon gave a loud piercing cry, and bat his wings fiercely in the air, raising higher and higher until he was nothing more than a speck, Jon blinked, and he was gone.

“you think I upset him?” Tormund mused

“No, but he has been acting queer as of late”

  
He stayed on the quarterdeck for the rest of the day, barely moving, starring at the skies. The winds were strong, giving the crew a break to play dice while taking their turns manning the sails. He searched the skies one more time. It had not been the first time Drogon had left him since he first arrived, but Jon couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was not coming back.

His eyes looked far away on the horizon line, out to the east where the sun had gone, leaving only a slow burning glow from its descent _how strange_ he thought, but nothing made sense anymore. A sudden feeling of emptiness took over.

"the night is dark and full of terrors" Davos preached in an almost inaudible murmur

"hmm" Jon barely turned to look. The words seemed darker when he said it, but those words rang true, the night was dark, and here they were. Jon stretched his back and made his way into his cabin. In the darkness, alone, his own nightmares would soon come.

* * *

 

Davos watched intently, as his galley turned into a small island, almost invisible from a sudden storm at sea. Blue green waters surrounded the high walls of the city as they approached the port of Lys, a stripped galley stood proud at one of the births.  
Tormund had grown restless, despite having only been one week at sea. Jon had to hand it to him, he had done much over the last few years for a man of the freefolk, but ships where not his strong suit.

“In all my years I have never had a man complain as much as you” Davos rumbled

“I’m not used to being in a floating tree. I’m doing my best here! in the heat! I’m almost down to my small clothes” he gestured at his attire, a ripped long sleeve wool tunic and pants made of the pelts of winter hares."and without any women to comfort me!”

  
Davos eyed the man in aggravation. “We’ll stop at Lys, have this hairy man child find himself a whore, and then we can sail to Dragons Bay...I can’t take any more of his incessant fussing”

As Jon placed one foot out from the wooden plank, he felt the sinking feeling from his boots in soft sand. Here the air clung to his clothes, it was damp and heavy. The islands sang a song of its own, here you could hear thousands of insects active among the leaves.

“Still alive?” A voice called from the docks

“Still...” Davos replied, his voice holding back his irritation

“The gods must have a sense of humor” a slim man with wispy white curls said in glee. He was dressed in a tunic, the color of a freshly honed sword. On his feet boots of fine sun bleached leather, and on his head a hat adorned with peacock feathers, flamboyance in all forms.

“The gods must love you” Davos quipped, “last I seen you, was at the Sisters, no gold and turning pirate again” Davod looked around the docks "you seemed to be down ships?"

“ravaged by euron, bloodless pirate” he looked to the sea “a scorpion whistled above my head carrying off a part of my galley's stem. Then a second sunk four more of my galleys, then a third and a fourth, rendering us helpless. They came swooping in, plucking my men from the sea and using them to fill his fleets”

“most of your men where made of slaves.. why not grab some more?”

“slavery has been abolished by the crown... punishable by death…a few take to the pits instead of wasting away…either way death is the outcome” he stood in silence for a few moments before finally snapping back to his reality “Aye! What wouldn’t I give to have a few more ships of my own again.."

“Which crown you speak of? Prince of the Narrow Sea, who swore himself to no man?” Davos chortled in response

“Indeed…I did, but she’s no man, and now even the Seas’ bow to her Graciousness”

“Is that so??” Davos and Jon quickly glanced at each other. _Had anyone heard of her demise? Do men follow blindly a lie of her continuous reign?._

“Tell me, why are you here?” Salladhor raised an eyebrow in inquisition, eyeing Jon’s attire.

“Salla my friend we sail to Dragons Bay” Davos assured his old friend “We come to see the beautiful perfumed city in passing”

“Davos, seems to me you have been to long out on land! Only paying vessels to cross from north of the Narrow sea and west from the Jade Sea, and you can’t unload in Dragons Bay if you have not been authorized to make port.”

“Authorized?!”

“Aye..lately the city has increased its safety”

“How is that so?”

“I do not mean to be unmannerly, but do you have any goods in your ship?” Salla interrupted

“No, only what we need for travel” Jon briskly answered, it was mostly true. They came to confirm that Daario was indeed using the Targaryen name for his own personal gain. He would have his dues if indeed it was true.

“Aye, I hear that a lot. Come with me while my customs officer checks your ship”

“You treacherous pirate, you come to take what we have, using the crowns name to do your bidding” Davos exclaimed with frustration

“Like I said, the crown takes safety seriously, just checking for contraband, we get a nice coin for every item turned in” Sallhador kept his gaze on Jon, as one of his men walked up the ramps to open the Betha’s hatch

"without my fleet, I make sure I catch everything I can..but customs officers with ships can track down more" he took a couple steps, almost forgetting his position “Aye, Your other ships will need to be checked too”

  
They made their way into the fertile city, funny looking trees shot up from the ground, with limbless trunks that towered above them, long green fronds hanging from their heights. Jon looked on in amazement.

“So tell me Jon? Is it?” Salladhor asked as he picked a blushed green fruit from a nearby tree “how did you manage to fly the Queens banners, and with a wolf in its heart?”

Jon paused for a moment, the breeze cooling off the sun’s kisses on his skin “It is my father’s House Sigil and the Wolf is my mother’s”

“Ah bastard born?” Salladhor calmed “her grace legitimized you then! That explains” he laughed “or else you would have claim”

The words triggered something in Jon, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. A small laugh escaped his lips, ready to spit out words of contempt. As he began to open his mouth, he was struck by what his eyes witnessed. In front of him stood a crowd full of people with pale skin, silver, and golden hair, with eyes of purples, lilacs and pale blues. Davos noticed Jon’s sudden silence and looked toward the direction of his eyes.

“Jon, I should’ve told you. The people here are descendants from Old Valeryia, I should have remembered” his voice sad and desolate

Tormund, pulled his tunic off exposing his pale skin to the sun. His skin shimmering with precipitation.

“That feels much better” he exclaimed using the wool tunic as a rag to wipe his face and neck.

Completely ignoring Davos comments. Jon followed suit, the humidity suddenly was suffocating him. He slid his thick bristled tunic off, exposing every muscle on his torso. His skin the color of pearls; every move giving away his strength, his scars telling a tale of the secrets to his physique. Women started staring, whispering in their native tongue and giggling, but he paid no mind.

Tormund eyed Jon with annoyance

“Aye, you couldn’t let me get me a woman first?”

Jon shook his head and chuckled “They look a little short for your taste”

Tormund looked around, “they look like her people..your people I guess”

“Aye” it bothered him, the ambient, the festive crowds, it was not enough to erase the stain of guilt. _This was the gods work, cursing him to always see her in some way._

They sat at an establishment of Salladhor’s, The pirate taking his hat of and placing it on his lap. Two girls brought them out lamprey in a stew made of leeks, red Lys wine, onions, shallots, garlic, cured ham and mixed herbs.

Tormund grimaced, “stew again?!”

Another girl served a bowl of bread that had been cut into little pieces.It had been covered in garlic, and butter baked to a crisp. Salladhor grabbed a handful of the pieces and scattered it over his stew. He motioned for a flagon of rum to be brought over, pouring them all a glass. Jon took a sip, scrunching his face as the strange and heady liquid burned his throat. It was sweet at first but had a fiery aftertaste that burned his tongue

“God’s!” He exclaimed, putting the glass down.

“It’s from Naath” Salladhor smiled as he swirled his glass and took a sip himself.

“Like I was saying earlier, many things have been changed..especially with trade” he bit into the fresh picked pear, moist with morning dew

“the crown lands have levied a high tribute payable by merchants of exports, but not by foreign merchants of the goods that are imported" he took another sip of his rum

"high tributes are also paid on imports,but they are not on her lands exports” he grabbed the large peacock feather from his hat and lightly stroked it

“many things you see on this island are the furthest they’ll go if they make it past without paying a tribute” he winked at them

”The Summer Isles and Naath will only trade with Dragons bay..a problem truly for Westeros, Braavos and the lands past the Great Sand Sea” he poured the men more rum.

“Myrrai!” The pirate called out “bring these men something to wear”

A young woman scurried from around the establishment, her head down watching her steps to not trip on her robe. As she looked up, Jon’s mouth went slack, completely at a loss for words

“..Dany?” He barely whispered. He his eyes fluttered, actually he was not sure if he was breathing, the woman had silver hair and pale blue eyes with a tint of violet, she smiled as she handed them their tunics, and turned away. _Gods I am am cursed._

“Who is Dany?” Salladhor asked confused, completely forgetting their conversation, but noticing all three men dumbfounded on the woman who was walking away.

“Myrrai is one of my best courtesans, those who pay for her.. jest they have slept with the queen herself” he rolled his eyes at the thought “that is until an unsullied overhears them”

Jon nervously laughed at the thought

“I thought the unsullied left to Naath after the war?” he cleared his throat, leaving out why they left those lands. _Maybe Daario had managed to find someone to look like Dany.. that would keep the Lords from wondering. But the unsullied?_ That ate at his thoughts.

He was glad he had Tyrion, as he of all people was the fallen Queens hand, and no one could deny that Tyrion, as conniving as he was, was useful for exposing Daario and this Queen as a fraud.

“That was the rumor, but there have been so many now it’s hard to know the truth”

“Has the Queen said anything in regard to these rumors?” Davos rubbed the residual nubs of his fingers.

“The Queen has not left the Pyramid since she came back from a visit in Volantis or so we hear. She is heavy with..”

“Captain!” One of Salladhor’s men called as he ran towards them.

“They have a prisoner”

* * *

  
Sallhador walked through an opened wooden door, inside a burlap sack, covered a small figure.

“Take it off” Salladhor waved, Jon moved beside the figure, grabbing it by the head, giving its cover a firm yank. A dazed dwarfs face was seen inside the shadows. Gagged, with hands tied behind him, and a heavy chain wrapped around his waist that pinned him to the wooden floor. Jon quickly grabbed the thick golden oil streaked waves on top of his head and yanked back.

“Arghh” was all Tyrion could muster to say, still dazed from his sudden release from his cover. Jon continued to tug on the gripped hair with plenty of force. His neck now tilted far back, his throat contorted to a point where the dwarf began to stress his laborious breaths. This wasn’t mummery in the least, but Jon had to restrain himself before the dwarf met an early death.

“The little hand a prisoner?” Salla laughed in bewilderment “he fetches a high price if found alive across the narrow sea”

“aye” Jon Released Tyrion, he shook the dwarfs head with a slight sense of comicality “I bet he does”

The shaken dwarf gasped for breath, confused at what had just transpired “seems that the stories have been muddled across the sea” Jon sneered

Salladhor Saahn looked at Davos, then at Jon with his hand now strategically placed on the hilt of his sword, and finally at Tormund who had now managed to move himself closer to the entrance blocking it. It dawned on him, that maybe the stories he had heard being whispered, may have been true.

He nodded at his chief guard and the cutthroat changed position behind Jon. As the guard raised his sword, Jon swiftly disarmed the guard about to kill him, grabbing the guard’s sword with his hands, he fatally stabs him, then turning to Salladhor’s who can't seem to remove his sword from his sheath from the sudden state of affairs

"I do not wish to spill blood" Jon calmly spoke to Salladhor "but maybe we can come to an arrangement of a sort?"

"it’s not like I’m in much position to barter?"

"how much would you get for him?"

Sallhador squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath. He didn't have much of an option to negate them the truth

"six hundred gold honors I would presume"

Jon looked at Davos, he was unaccustomed to the currency in Essos.

"one hundred and fifty silver stags" Salladhor answered it for them, a sly smile crossing his lips

"still it’s not enough to buy you a ship... eh?" Jon thought out loud, Salladhor's face indifferent, but still readable _No it does not_

"Have your men bring me the girl"

Salladhor nodded and gestured to one of his guards currently detained by the large red headed man.

As the young woman entered to the bowels of the ship, Tyrion wriggled in his confines. His eyes grew large, mumbling incoherently from the gag. Jon sneered at him, grabbing Myrrai by the waist. He raised his hand to her throat, softly caressing her jawline. He stared at her with such intensity that she turned her gaze away from him. He looked down, acknowledging her discomfort, and ashamed of his primal actions.  
Jon moved to Tyrion who stressed to speak and yanked the rag from his mouth.

“That’s not Daenerys!” He struggled to say, but Jon only managed to stare him down, ignoring him, and brushing the girl aside.

“Davos...” Tyrion gasped “that’s not her” his tears flowing down his eyes, staining his cheeks “that’s not...her”

Davos looked at Myrrai, she stood there unknowing what to do. He nodded at her gesturing her to make her leave. When she was far enough away Davos looked back at Tyrion “unfortunately so”

“How many like her exist?” Jon asked Salladhor

Salladhor looked confused “whores?”

“no, women with her looks”

“its is rare to find such beauties outside of Lys…especially the ones that resemble her Grace” Salladhor paced the galley

“Myrrai is the closest you can get, there were a few others but those that loathed the queen…well no need to explain”

Jon understood, dressed in fine clothes, Myraai would not make it a day in Westeros without proper guards.

"You get us into Meereen, and you can have one of our Carracks" Jon negotiated, he knew there would be a bounty on their heads if they reached their water’s edge.

"The docks are highly guarded, and with him..." the pirate raised an eyebrow at the Dwarf "how do you suppose we get through the customs officers?”

” barrels” Chirped Davos, his eyes glistening with mischief

” aye, but the wildling is too large to fit inside” he walked up to Tormund

“I take my courtesans to Dragons Bay during the tourneys, I am sure he can clean up well” he walked around the large man inspecting his physique

“not the usual type, but not everyone can afford the finer things” he turned to the rest of the men

” suppose we can do this, and succeed…I still cannot get you into the Great Pyramid” he looked at them mockingly, expecting them to fret the idea.

“Through the sewers” croaked Tyrion, Jon glanced at him half disgusted at the thought

“The sewers?”

“most kingdoms overlook the sewers...it’s the weak spot...I know from experience” he winced at his confines

You could see the pirates mind spinning

"a legitimized bastard Trying to usurp her throne" Salladhor smiled as his voice sweetened

"three carracks and I do as you ask…I grow quite fond of our Graciousness"

Jon inched himself close to Salladhor, he was not a large man in the least, but he towered over the Pirate

"one carrack and you get us into Meereen, and one carrack to keep your mouth shut and mind your own...or I can shove my sword up through your throat and use another loud mouthed pirate to get us through”

"well then...I suppose we'll sail at dawn" he began to walk away, slowing down as he reached the upper deck "but we cannot sail into Dragons Bay with your flags"

“He is decent man...” Davos swallowed a lump in his throat

“but I would not fully not trust him with my life"

  
Jon could see how the man flip flopped his allegiance so quickly, but then again didn’t he?

“ I was meant to die in Castleblack…she would still be alive if I had not been brought back”

“The lord of light has brought you back for a reason... and it’s not to die over here …exposing a farce”

“I did not ask to come back” Jon thumped his hands on the ship’s rails

“your god has gifted me with an extension of an already despondent life”

“He was never my god...but I saw the red woman turn to dust after her visions of the long night came to fruit...she always knew she would not make it to dawn”

Jon turned to Davos

“I prayed to her god, my old gods, and even the seven to bring her back...they do not hear me plead even after what I’ve done for them”

“You’ve brought the kingdoms of Westeros together again, all of them…maybe this is your reason to comeback...to build a better world?”

Jon gripped the wooden railing on the ship, Davos words calling back the same last words Dany had spoken to him, it stung him like a smoldering iron rod piercing his insides.

“just get me to Meereen so I can end this wretched game”

He descended from the bow into the ship's cabin. He stared at the bed as he walked passed it, he knew he should get some rest. He knew they wouldn’t see land again for weeks. Instead he sits in a chair near the large window overlooking the sea, but he couldn’t resist, glancing back at the bed.

It had triggered memories of that night when their fingers caressed each other's skin, afraid that any heavier the touch would break their intoxicating spell. They had become one, one mind, one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other, each giving themselves up to expose their vulnerability, the first of many nights until that unfaithful day with Sam. He closed his eyes, reliving those moments.

* * *

 

He heard the men yelling above “Land!...Land ahead!”

  
Jon raised himself from the seat, stretching his body from the aches of sleeping in an upright position. He made his way up to Davos, who had an opened map in front of him and Salladhor.

“I thought it be a fortnight until we arrived” Jon scratched the back of his head, wincing from his aches. The sky was smoking and red up ahead. Jon looked at the horizon behind him, blue skies shone through.

“Aye..but this is Old Valyria” Davos rubbed his beard in thought

“If we cut through it’ll save us a few days” he said pensively almost afraid of his own thoughts.

“What is the problem?” Jon noticed Davos, and Salladhor hesitating

“The problem is any man who lays eyes upon that coast is doomed” Salladhor said, trying to look away from the nearing coastline.

“Didn’t Ser Jorah and Tyrion sail through there?” Jon leaned against a mast, watching the sails billow into the land mass direction. Something inside him pushed to see the lands, the winds pushing the Valerians into its direction.

“Bring him” Jon motioned to one of the guards

Out in the deck Tyrion blinked, his eyes hurting from the sunlight. He had barely seen it since they had made sail from Kingslanding. His hair was matted, his tunic stained, and bruises decorated his wrists from the ties that bind them together. He coughed, breathing in the fresh salty air.

“How do we get through?” Jon pointed at the land mass

“Valyria?” Croaked Tyrion “no!, no, no, no!” He cried “disease runs rampant, we will turn to stone”

“you obviously made it out alive...and well” Jon barked

“Jorah caught it, marked for death if not for Sam”

"I did not ask you what happened, I asked how you crossed"

Tyrion, trembled at Jon’s voice and dragged his stubby legs to the ships rails peering to look out “And all that men had learned...” he whispered, as he pointed the way to an inlet.

”we sail through” Jon ordered his men and Salladhors. Both groaning, hesitant to listen to Jon.

”I will not sail through those lands” Salladhor proclaimed

Jon turned to look at Tyrion “If a dwarf and a sellsword could make it out alive, I am sure we will too” He turned to Salladhor “do you want your ships or no?”

* * *

 

As they reached the inlet of the smoking sea, Jon could see the dragon columns were the only complete structures, as everything else had worn and crumbled near the mouth of the inlet. Their decay was the only marker of their passage through time, a place of uncounted days, where the light shone as scattered streaks through the smoking sky, illuminating the relics, precious secrets of his ancestors.

  
The temperature here was pushing scorching heights, even as the sun barely beat through to the forest canopy. He could see that the vegetation here was very green, and the plants where different from the ones he had seen at Lys.

“You are quite possibly the first Valyrian to sail through in more than 1,000 years” Davos looked at Jon, scanning the surroundings. The sound of insects booming through the jungle and into the galley. Jon just stared out into the distance. He could see past the first ruins, that the lost city was far more sophisticated than anyone had ever imagined. It was a sprawling arrangement of temples, palaces, ordinary dwellings and what looked like a stone river pouring into the sea, its steam rose from the waterfall it created.

Something called to Jon, the gentle breeze carrying the words to him “here” it’s said, with the sound of a beating heart, “here” it said again.

  
Jon shook his head, the heat was playing tricks on him, he could hear the beating heart, the sound of a thousand horses galloping on fertile lands “Here!” The voice called again, his head throbbing, pulsating as they neared a small cove. “Here” the voice grew louder, Jon’s head hurt, and his heart ached. Something inside him pleaded him to listen.

“Stop!” Jon called out, “get me a skiff”

“No!” Called out Tyrion “Jon don’t.. there’s stone men out there”

Jon ignored Tyrion’s pleads, and forced the man into the skiff. Much to Davos and Tormunds frustration, Jon ordered them to stay “if anyone deserves to die... it’s us”.

The small boat skimmed across the warm water, to what was left of the ancient city. Ruins stood in spite of themselves, defying gravity in a precarious way. Yet, the voice called him to a place kept secret by the lush jungle. It had avoided the dooms most destructive touch and had become a sanctuary for the animals. Birds of many colors chirped and sang, bobbing their heads to their arrival. Towering spirals burst through the ground, each with a lost language carved upon their massive stone structures.

Jon ripped his arms and face on massive shrubs studded with thorns, his legs now savaged by red biting ants, stumbling over vines that stretched ankle height across the fertile ground. It was more brutal for Tyrion that trotted behind him, whipped and lashed by every shrub that moved out of the way for Jon. The ground beneath their feet gave way, and they sank into a muddy pool up to Jon’s waist. Jon easily enough wadded through, clawing his way out. Tyrion sank down, unable to swim in the thick goopy mud, struggling to stay above, and eventually beginning to drown.

“Here, now, come” the jungle spoke with desperation, but Jon turned back using a vine nearby to help leverage himself and pull Tyrion's body out of the thickened goop. The dwarf coughed up the thick water, heaving as Jon hastened his pace. It was then when Jon, slashed through a thick mess of underbrush to reveal one large clearing. Across it, laid strewn the discarded remnants of huge burnt down trees that have been felled by something landing on them, snapping them at their roots. Beside them lay hundreds of half digested scorched bones of human remains.

“He’s been feasting on your stone men” Jon glanced at Tyrion, the small man’s face was pale, from his earlier incident, and this sudden view. His face scrunched, and for the first time grabbed Jon by his arm pointing

“He was more than eating… this is a nesting ground” in front of them, they could see the circular form the bodies had made. A sudden flash of light crossed Jon’s mind, in mere seconds he saw a child of dark hair and violet eyes. “Here!” It called again, but only Jon could hear it. He made his way into the center of the nest, piled high with charred bones. He got on his knees, plunging his hands through the ashes and dug, scrapping in the cinders, until He felt something hot at his fingertips

“yes, here” . He sifted further until inside he saw something shimmer in the ash.

“Eggs” he whispered and pulled them out, two black eggs hot on his hands, throbbing with his touch. Tyrion dropped to his knees, and grabbed his head

“Jorah and I saw him..her? When we came so long ago”

Jon took off his tunic, making a bag to hold the eggs. He wiped his brow, and looked up at the burning red sky, it was starting to get deeper in color.

“Did Daenerys know?”

Tyrion shook his head “there was a time when no one knew where Drogon went, and one day he just showed back up...to rescue her in the pits”

Jon nodded his head in understanding.

“We should head back”

As they made their way back onto the boat, Jon glanced one more time at the fallen city, a deep longing took over him, Gods, how I would love to have been here with Dany, to raise this back up from the crumbling stone and turn it back to its glory He looked down at the eggs, one was streaked with jade and the other mottled pearl. He clutched them tight, thinking of Brans words _“you still have something to fight for” could this have been it?_

* * *

 

They sail beside an armada he has ever seen, a hundred or more ships sailing north, crowding the sea, churning the waves with their keels, black flags with the Dragons standing high on their masts. Jon, could see other sails painted with the signs and emblems of the various lands that visit this Kingdom.The stripped hull of the Valerian sails slightly out of formation. They were alone among the an entire fleet of Targaryen allies, and theirs the only ships carrying the men who killed her.

  
Jon stood on the prow of the galley, staring straight into Meereen, a giant Pyramid that towered the height of the Wall, stands proudly in front, similar pyramids of a lesser stature are scattered around it. Above it, an enormous golden statue in her resemblance. Tormund stood behind him, still wearing his tunic. That man had come so far for him, Jon thought, a sad smile forming on his face.

“Are you ready?” Tormund placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder, staring at the figure above the pyramid

“It's the will of the gods” Jon replied, taking off his black doublet over his tunic.

Another ship sails nearby, inside the unsullied stare back, unflinching, unmoving inside the ships prow.

“I hope this plan works little crow”

Inside the Valerian everyone is ready, waiting, silent. Bows, catapults, large crossbows put away to not cause the draw of fire. Facing the Galley, two Targaryen ships face her, as she nears the entrance to brown flowing river. Jon observes them through a porthole, then turns to Davos

"what is this?"

"ships are inspected here and taxed to go up river" Tyrion explained

  
Outside they could hear a man yelling to the Valerian "what do you carry this time Saan?" to where they could hear the pirate respond "nothing more than the usual..."

  
He could hear men laughing

"we should place you in Tyrosh, stop it at the source"

"aye, but then I would not be able to run my lace producing pillowhouse" jest Salladhor "or have access to the fine wines of our island"

"Get on with it then” another voice thick and accented barked back

as they heard the plank lowering, Jon, Davos and Tyrion lowered themselves into empty barrels of Lynesse wine. Davos had not lost his instincts as a smuggler and placed a handle inside the lids to help slide them back on from inside.

“They have got better at the common tongue” Tormund chuckled trying to lighten the mood, as he moved a few barrels on top of the ones they hid in. Finally, he could be heard making his way to another area where the rest of the courtesans awaited.

Eventually, the loud steps of the guards could be heard walking across the wooden floors. He could hear them lifting crates and talking about the fine lace that was transported within the galley. They tapped on barrels, and moved about inspecting every nook and cranny.

“Saan” called a guard, a few seconds later his voice could be heard

“I know, I know…both the white and the red? I have rum this time too”

“aye”

He could hear him shuffling about, as a loud creak could be heard as he pulled out a bung from a barrel.

“now the others” Salladhor began to pull the bungs from the surrounding barrels, taking his time with each one

“Mud mouse.. we have more ships…”

“We take some lace for the prince, see Moreoas for your coin” the accented voiced called out

With that, the scrapping of boots could be heard growing further away, a slight dip could be felt in the silence from the ship.

“lucky bastards” Salladhor mumbled as he tapped on their barrels “one carrack” he jested as he walked away to find Moreoas.

The canvas that covered the entirety of the wagon, had a small tear in it, giving Jon a glimpse of their surroundings. As the wagon moved, the tear produced a small light that flickered with each lurch and roll. The wind rattled at the cover, as if it was trying to blow it away, but the fabric stayed tightly bound with ropes. Inside their crenelated prison the light was the only thing keeping them from losing their minds, except for Tyrion who had grown accustomed to confinement in the dark. 

  
They had not been promised any comfort, food or even water until they had reached their destination, nothing except for this simple light and Jon’s small window to the outside.

Perhaps he was naive to think that the Salladhor would care, they were his cargo now, and a highly prized one at that. But after years in wars, he knew a knife could eventually come next, it would be enough to put most men over the edge, but for him it would be a form of salvation.  
He looked around, in the covered wagon. The faces looking back where grey and as hard stone, each dying a little, and living again with the next flickering burst of sunlight within the darkened confinement.  _The prince_ those words echoed in Jons mind  _must be a guest of Daarios, but how could the unsullied follow such a man?_

A large thump made jon, quickly look out the tear, sand weathered buildings protruded proudly from red desert clay. He could see they are being ushered through a maze of buildings, while a peppered colored horse, pulled the groaning rickety wagon that transported them.

Stalls crowd a bustling market place, and sun kissed children circled around the wagon, laughter reverberating through the canvas covered wagon. He could see the Meereenes greeted Salladhor with dazzling smiles, hoping he brought them their goods.

In their stalls wooden trestles lay covered with magnificently colored fabrics of different textures and materials, fresh caught fish, breads, twinkling stones of different cuts, shining metals, crisp linens, fruits with overwhelming scents, brightly colored vegetables and herbs of different types and colors. Jon had never seen such an array of colors so tightly together, accustomed to the dull pallet from the north, even here the glittering gold of the Lannister’s did not compare to what his eyes gazed upon.

Salladhor hands a golden coin to a merchant who knew him by name. In return he hands him a pouch, and a couple skins. Jon could see him smile as he weighed something on a scale before wrapping it in parchment and handing it to him. The wagon began to roll again, finally ending in a shaded alley with no exit.  
Jon could hear the scrapping of the smugglers boots against the rough gravely ground. The thick ropes raking against the canvas as they were being pulled off. Finally, the canvas giving way as its flopped to the side of the wagon. They sat there sweating from the heat, and lack of ventilation.

He throws them the skin, the small pouch, and the roll covered in parchment. Davos grabs the roll and unwraps it. Inside a slab of cured ham, Tormund comes around from the front of the wagon and grabs the small pouch, revealing an assortment of nuts and dried fruit leathers. Tyrion reaches for the skin, but Jon quickly pulls it out of his way. He takes a sip from the opening, wine, sweet with a hint of persimmon. They each traded the goods, quenching their thirst and hunger from the few hours hidden away.

“We’ve made it far enough for now, it’s getting dark. we rest”

He handed the three men a hooded cloak and guided them through a few alleys. They were surprisingly clean, for such a large merchant city. Above them, a flapping sound could be heard, Jon looked up, but a large canvas was spread between the buildings. _Could it be?_


	27. Tyrion IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I can have the next chapter within the next two days if not sooner.

“Jon?”

“What do you want Tyrion?”

“I need to take a piss” his bladder ached from holding it for so long, surprised he even had any liquid to release from the lack of access to water.

Jon got up from his bed roll, he was only dressed in his small clothes. He grabbed a robe nearby and slung it on. Tyrion could see his hair was down, and the loose curls bounced with each of his steps.

“I suppose I can untie you?” Jon muttered as he knelt to untie his wrists.

“There is nowhere safer than here for me” he responded

Jon stared at him, his eyes expressing as much hatred as acknowledgment that he spoke the truth.

He felt the binds release. He moved his wrists, rubbing the raw skin where the ropes had rubbed him bloody.

“I do not know where it is” Jon mentioned as they walked out of their chambers

“I’m sure it cannot be that hard to find” he mussed

Thankfully Myrrai was seated near a bench outside of their building. In her hands she knitted a thin roll of silk into the delicate known patterns of lace.

“That’s beautiful” Jon mentioned

She looked up at him, a sweet smile rose from her lips.

“Thank you”

“Do you know where the latrine is?”

“Yes m’lord” she stood from her bench and guided them to another building across the grass covered courtyard.

“Does Saan take your hard work for himself?” Tyrion asked as they walked to a smaller building

“No my lord, we get a profit now… it’s the law”

Tyrion looked at Jon, as he had opened the door of the white stone building. He gestured for Tyrion to go in. Torches lit the walls, but most of the light came from the open ceiling above them. The openness had let the air waft any of the known putrid odors out of the area. Inside the chamber, a bench perforated with four holes, the size of dinner plates, ran along the back wall. Tyrion walked to one of the holes and peered in, a tilted stone slab could be seen towards the bottom. It lacked the dark murky feces that the ones in Westeros did.

On the far right wall, a lever was placed at the top of a small wooden board. A funnel stuck out from underneath it. He pulled open his breeches and began to relieve himself, trying to figure out the purpose of the wooden lever. The golden liquid splashed inside the orifice, when another steady stream could be heard joining his. When he was done, he turned to look at Jon. He stood at the second to the left hole. He stared at the force of the continuous torrent of liquid, following it back, never meaning to linger longer than he had. Then his eyes grazed on what Jon managed to hide away so very well.

 _Even there the man was perfectly sculpted_. Tyrion rolled his eyes.

“Seriously?”

Jon saw him looking and finished up. Tucking away his member as he looked at Tyrion.

“You’ve never seen an average sized cock before?” He half suppressed a laugh

“You forget I spent my times in brothels” He reminded Jon, turning to look at the lever and changing topic “what do you think this is for?”

Jon shrugged again, as he adjusted himself.

Tyrion pulled the lever up. A steady stream of water came flowing out from behind the now lifted wooden board. Water immediately hit the funnel, pouring right into the far right slot. He watched as the water rolled down into the slanted stone slab under the bench.

“It’s washing it away!” He exclaimed

Jon looked down the hole in front of him and nodded in agreement.

“There’s another opening down there too “he peered at the far left cleft in the wooden bench.

“Strange”

As they made way to leave the room, they noticed another similar lever above a round marble bowl that jutted out from the wall. Jon opened the door calling the girl located outside

“Myrrai?.. what is this?”

She made her way in, a little weary. Tyrion stood on his toes Trying to reach the lever. She let out a laugh

“M’lords! That’s a wash basin for your hands”

Tyrion had not heard of anything like this since he left with Daenerys. He looked around, inspecting how this worked.

“I guess it helps keep the sickness away”

That sounded like Daenerys, she always cared about the health of her people. This amount of change must have been done after her ordeal with the pale mare, but he never remembered her giving instructions for such a feat.

“How long has this been implemented?”

“Not too long m’lord” she walked them back outside “freed men have been given coin to come and fill these barrels every morning and mid day...but we hear the magic from Braavos will soon be here for all of us” she gestured at a wooden tank filled with water outside, it guided a trough of water, where the wooden slabs could be seen holding it back.

“Magic?” Jon scoffed

“Yes m’lord... they have water that runs from stone rivers and into the homes of the highborn”

“Interesting”

They made their way back to the brothel. Jon stood outside for a moment looking up at the moon. Tyrion making his way to him quietly.

“How was she when she was here?”

He remembered that fateful day. As she had pulled the goblet out of his hands, he had gone looking for her after Varys had mentioned her. He wanted to see if the rumors of this Terrible Targeryan was ture.

_“You will advice me...While you can still speak in complete sentences”_

_“Advise you on what?”_

_“How to get what I want”_

He remembered half jokingly persuading her to seek something else, anything apart from that wretched throne. She didn’t find it amusing, seven hells even then stoic and demanding she was so perfect in that cream dress.

 _“There's more to the world than Westeros after all”_   he remembered telling her, but she wasn’t having it. How many hundreds of thousands of lives had she changed for the better during that time. He had been right after all, perhaps this was where she ultimately belonged, where she could do the most good, not Westeros…her doom.

“She... was.... terrible…but this was according to the slave masters...she had fought so hard to see that no child born into Slaver's Bay would ever know what it meant to be bought or sold”

He could see Jon swallow hard, his eyes tearing up as he looked into the night sky

“but this was not her home either, even though the common people devoted themselves to her...she was meant for greatness…she should have killed me the first day she met me” He looked at Jon, pain had washed over his face.

“...she was everything but terrible”

He felt pained, had he been the one to corrupt her all along? would he have unleashed the same devastation? He had always been okay with murder and torture. He didn’t only have Symon killed, he had him killed and then fed to the poor. He had Janos Slynt exiled to the Wall, he looked at Jon sitting there with tears in his eyes. He thought about when he had ordered the murder of Allar Deem and had Grand Maester Pycelle sent to the dungeons. He thought about all the times he had swung the sword, though metaphorically of course. If it had ever been that he had a choice between his interests and someone else’s, he always had made the choice to take care of his needs first.

He looked at Jon again, he was nothing like him. He swung the sword and felt their pain, he looked out for the lesser people, as he understood and he put his needs last, even if it meant losing the ones he loved. He thought about Daenerys, and how she had lost her children, those she loved, all of them truly, her quick ascent to the throne for Jon’s war was pushed back, and even her life, taken by his own premeditated treachery, to break the wheel. Granted, it was not the way she should have gone about, but truly, who would not have a mental breakdown at the cost she had incurred.

He couldn’t even allow Cersei, to pay for the abominable acts she had done, just because she was his blood. It was then, when he realized he had no problem allowing evil and injustice to exist in the world, as long as it was convenient for him. _He had evenhandedly corrupted two astonishing people._

“Come” Tyrion gestured at Jon. Jon wiped his tears and wearily followed him. As they made their way through the front entrance of the brothel, he picked up a scarf wrapping it around his head.

* * *

 

Together they walked the city in silence, their sandals scraping against the beaten ground. They saw a six year old boy carrying his tiny sleeping brother, slung on his back. His face shown too tired to move away around them, accidentally bumping into Jon, who carefully readjusted the child. At first glance he would have thought it was a beggar child with no place to go, but as they turned around a corner, torches lit the narrow streets. The light emptied through a small gate onto a large field, where a group of small folk played squawky, whistling instruments, and small hand drums.

A circle of ornately dressed women made musical noises with their flapping jewelry as they rhythmically moved to the surrounding sounds. Rising dust muted the light of torches the stood around them, giving everything the feel of a dreamlike state. The darkness focused his attention on the seductively mesmerizing dancers. The atmosphere raged in celebration. Cloaked safely, the possibility of anything transpiring beyond coy smiles and teasing twists gave them an opportunity to sit and lose their minds in a glimmer of hopeless happiness. More children ran barefooted around the field, laughing, dancing and playing until they too made the walk back through the gates.

A larger man with a gleam in his eye, poured what looked like brown grains into a simmering pot over a small fire. Tyrion watched the water turn brown with the a quick passing of time. The man stuck a ladle into the pot and poured it into a waiting cup nearby. He sipped it, as if testing a fine wine, and offered him a taste. Tyrion grabbed the cup, a pungent earthy aroma lifted from the steam as his lips pressed against the rim, letting the hot liquid pour into his mouth. A bright light flavor wedged itself on the sides of his tongue. He swallowed, a smokey wine like flavor lingered on his tongue, he took another sip, and took to his mouth an offering of dates. Jon on the other hand, waved off an offering of a sourleaf, as the men passed a tin of it around.

People sat on the floor, eating, drinking, singing and telling tales of their lives. Nearby, some children who had managed to stay up silently waved a large leaf to fan themselves, keeping the flies and smoke away. A small wash basin that was being passed around held moist warm rags. It was to cleanse their hands, as their fingers had become sticky as they grabbed slabs of soft flat bread, topping it with spicy meat and vegetables.

Everyone dipped eagerly into a central bowl of small light colored grains. Young girls took turns peeking from the corner of their eyes to look at the wavy dark haired man that sat pensively by the fire, quickly looking at each other and trying to hide a giddy smile as he peered into the strange looking food. Two older women, in crimson jeweled outfits were squatting attentively in the corner, keeping their distance and a very low profile.

“What do you hold so festive?” He finally asked the man that had given him the drink.

“We celebrate Prince Joreah” the mans thick Meereenese accent spoke in the common tongue.

Jon looked up from the fire. His eyes instinctively taking everything in.

“Joreah?”

“Named after the Queens most loyal Guard” he shoved another handful of the grain like substance in his mouth.

Jons eyes immediately met Tyrion’s. His face usually solemn showed a moment of distress. At first what he had heard from Durwin could have just been stories, but Brans insistence of Jon coming was proof enough there was more than he let on.

“So who is the father?” He raised an eyebrow “Naharis?” Jon asked as if he knew the answer

“Some say he a Targeryan, others say low born, other say she like dragon and make child herself…but even Naharis has been quiet on the subject”

A small child ran up to the large man and plopped down on this thigh. Her hair was a tangle of sorts, and her feet dark with the clay like dirt.

“I think she waits for him”

“Aye, you think Queen like your mother waiting for her husband to come home” he laughed, his stomach bouncing with each gurgle of his throat

“Then why else does she wait outside her terrace?”

“To look upon her beautiful city of course!” He exclaimed, pushing the child off his lap.

“How old is this prince..You speak of?”

“You must not be from her lands, everyone knows of his birth a fortnight ago.. even dragon come back for him!...just a wee babe”

Jon’s face went pale, he got up stumbling upon his feet. His hair stuck to his face, as his sweat began to accumulate on his face from his state of dread. Tyrion got up and chased after him, his legs trying to maintain themselves upright from his own trepidation.

He finally grabbed Jon, pulling on his robe to stop him from going into an unknown alley. He knew that Jon did not believe any of the rumors of Daenerys, and yet everything the man said had no reason other than the truth.

“Drogon..”

“What about him?”

“He knew when I plunged the dagger in her heart, he could feel her..”

“He followed you”

“Aye, but a fortnight ago he was not himself and left us at the Stepstones” he grabbed the back of his neck and squatted down rubbing vigorously the nape of his neck “why would he come here?”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for everything” he tried to calm Jon

“it all feels like a bad dream” the man sobbed in distress

“Take me as close as we can get to the pyramid, please... I do not know these lands” Jon begged

As much as he had cared about his life, he could not see this man beg. His heart pang in sorrow, it had been his own doing to bring this pain to him. He had felt it once before, when he had killed his own paramour with his hands. He looked at his surroundings, a familiar fountain shimmered in the moonlight. His body felt as if he had eaten many sugary sweets, and sleep was nowhere in his mind.

“I never imagined dying In Meereen, and after seeing your cock, I feel insulted thinking of my dreams to die with a whores lips wrapped around mine” he trotted away gesturing his head for Jon to follow.

They walked though empty alleyways, and dead-end roads. Everywhere a feast was erupting, and the whole city hummed with excitement. Small folk wore colorful robes, tunics, tokars and cloaks. Everywhere they went they were made feel very welcome.

As they made their way closer, the city began to take on a similar hue. The usual colorful houses, shops and alleys are painted red. Jon placed his hand on one of the walls, the paint was still fresh. This was something new to Tyrion, as he looked up at the twenty-foot-high alleys of Mazdhan’s Maze, they looked like different ethereal walls of a city he had never been too.

He could see that the roads once filled with festive crowds had now begun to empty, replaced by the guards of the second sons at each corner. Some had brushes in their hands, not paying much attention to the wondering men.

He adjusted his hood a little better, making sure his distinctive face was hidden away in its shadows. Jon did the same but he wasn’t a recognizable figure to these guards.

“It’s only the unsullied you need to worry about”

“Aye”

The scene was similar in different areas of the city, red towering alleys, and guards beginning to take post. Only the fighting pit showed its natural brick red. He could see that Jon had been taking all the sights in, trusting him to guide him through the labyrinth, and to the Great Pyramid.

“It’s like rivers of blood” he heard Jon finally say.

Tyrion silently agreed. He turned one more corner, confused where he was at, but finally finding what he had been searching for. In front of them towered eighty foot walls, studded with bastions and towers at every turn.

“we can turn to the right or the left and follow the length of the walls” he took a few steps forward into the moonlight “I’m sure there will be more guards from this point on”

Jon nodded in agreement, both picking up pace and alertness. The further they went, the more guards they encountered. None of them really bothering to approach the disheveled men. Tyrion was glad his simple cloak, and dirty appearance hid the truth of his being. The second sons had never seen Jon, but who would think a man in small clothes and a cloak would be anything other than small folk.

“I will tell you now, that the gate ahead has three tunneling arches that lead to the central plaza...inside there is entrance to the Great Pyramid”

Jon’s eyes narrowed to the gate. He looked around, almost as if trying to find a way to climb up the towering red walls.

They would never be able to get through to the gate, let alone the main entrance. Then again thoughts like this would lead him nowhere inside the Great Pyramid. He just had to accept that everything is more secure than anywhere else in the world, for good reason, for men like him.

Their eyes grazed upon two more guards walking into the archways. Where they stood, shadows gave them cover against the red walls. They where invisible to any passing guards ahead of them. He took a step closer trying to catch bits and pieces of their conversation, as they spoke in low voices. As he inched closer, his feet scrapped against something hard and unyielding. He smiled.

There underneath them, a rusted manhole stood covered in red dust. He tugged on Jon’s robe signaling with his hands for him to lift the cover. He was useless with his short arms, stubby fingers and weak back, to even attempt to do it.

Jon stuck the tip of Longclaw into the crevice between the cover and the ground, giving enough way for him to grab the lids edge and quietly move it aside. Jon looked at Tyrion, raising his eyebrows, visually telling him he was to go first.

He dangled his feet into the dark pit and lowered himself in. Jon knelt in the shadows, grabbing his arms to help lower him even further, making the final jump tolerable on his stubby legs. Jon followed suit, pulling the lid above them, closing them off from the world above.

It was dark, wet and the smells inside reeked of sewage as it slowly trudge itself down the sewers. Thankfully, the full length of the sewers lit up with the moonlight, as it pierced through the manhole covers. The trickle of light gave a glimpse of the trail they had to follow. They scurried through the damp brick corridors, sometimes joined by rats larger than Tyrion himself. He had lost track of how many times they had made left and right turns, but each manhole they now tried to push up, greeted them with a persistent force of denial.

“They seem to be locked from above” Jon grunted as he tried to push one up again, the light that feathered his face, gave way to his frustration. His previously bouncing hair was moist and clinging to his face, his robe stained with the soils of the cesspools. They were stuck, _maybe this was their end, to die along with all the other putrid things that surrounded them._

“How is her grace?” They heard a voice above them

“She’s better, the babe is strong, keeps her up only to feed” another voice joined

“Will her grace be joining the audience during the tourney?”

“Perhaps...Lord Naharis has ordered more guards in the event that she does”

“And Commander....” They could not make out the rest of it

“...her grace grows weary without him”

Jon placed his ear against one of the holes trying to hear more, but the voices had grown weak. He slumped his shoulders, visibly agitated from the transpiring events.

“Jon?” he whispered

But he only managed to look in his direction

“We should find our way back, before daylight makes it hard for us to climb out unseen”

They began their journey back, he felt defeated, and somehow enthused that someone had figured out about the sewer’s dangers. They tried a couple more openings, moving back from where they thought they had come from. It was too dark to make out any markers, anything really that could guide them if they had been there before. Sometimes feeling like they were walking in circles. Jon’s arms became visibly weaker with each push he gave the iron covers.

He chuckled to himself, the predicament of their situation falling as a comedy to him, but Jon just glared at him.

“I’m sorry, I did not expect the sewers to be closed off, I’m truly as useful as the rats around here”

“I figured as much” Jon huffed as he gave another push to an opening above him, this one happened to give way. He moved it slightly up and looked around before completely moving it aside. Jon quickly picked him up like a child, and hoisted him up before he clawed himself out like a cat hanging from an edge.

Jon slid the cover back on, dusting his hands off. They were filthy, and smelled as bad as they looked. They looked around them, they had managed to make their way to the eastern part of the city.

“Too bad we couldn’t somehow have ended up in a bathhouse”

Jon looked at his current state of dress and laughed

“I suppose we do need it…i'm sure we can get one drawn at Salladhors house of whores”

“Aye, but it will be quite the walk back before then”

They began to walk towards a hill, the area there was elevated a little higher, and the cluster of alleys and passageways where not prevalent in this part of the city. Jon could see the large Pyramid towering in front of them from where they stood.

“It’s taller than the wall”

“Yes, many times I thought about pissing from the top of there too”

“And you didn’t ?” he groaned

“Well the top just happened to be Daenery’s living quarters...and I doubt she would have found it as amusing as I would have enjoyed”

Jon eyed him from the side, saying nothing in return. They stood like this for what seemed like a life time, staring off from the hill. Jon’s eyes now fixed on where Tyrion could only presume was the apex of the pyramid.

“How is he?”

“Who?”

“Naharis”

He really did not want to have this conversation in his current sober state, even in drunken stupor, this would be sobering conversation. He tried ignoring Jon, by changing the subject

“The sun is rising”

Jon just kept staring at the view presented in front of him. The sun was beginning to rise. Gold and orange hues began to bleed out, like ink spilt on a dark blue cloth behind the enormous pyramid. The usually brown Skahazadhan now dazzled in liquid gold and silver, as the rising sun spread golden flakes and red hues beyond the city.

They couldn’t tell where the red alleys they had traveled through where, and the suns new color palate did not make it any easier to find. He realized that the many different colors that Meereen used to hold was a subtle sign of division, as he stood and watched the city turn red, with the only one color prevailing was a show of unity.

Jon cleared his throat, still not forgetting what he asked.

“Daario was never loved by her if that’s what you’re asking”

He could see Jon tense at his words, what could he tell him about Daario that he wouldn’t see for himself when the time came. He was tall, physically appealing, charismatic and deeply devoted to bedding Daenerys. Did she love him? Not at all, and she was everything he wanted to conquer.

“She left him here though he begged her to stay, and it scared her to know she did not feel anything for it…when she went looking for you past the wall…I knew it then”

As he said those words to Jon, a giant shadow lifted itself from the top of the Pyramid, flapping its wings and circling what seemed to be the terrace located at the top.

They both stood watching attentively, until the dragon beat his wings a few more times and took off. Tyrion knew better than Jon, that this had been a ritual of the dragons, usually when Daenerys walked out to see the view of the city. He longed to see something there, but it was to far for his eyes to see.

 

* * *

 

It had been a few days now since their arrival, and they watched as the city boomed in constant movement. For the most part, they waited in the brothel. Many men, and women came and went, paying highly for the Lyneesse courtesans. Tormund loved being paid to be a courtesan himself, never negating any customer that chose to purchase him, that is of course if it was a woman and not a man. Davos, for the most part stayed and reminisced with Salladhor on the many ways he could breed his silver in the new trade market, but today Saan had been missing. Jon, for the most part just fretted in the shadows, trying to find someway to make his way into the Great Pyramid. When he wasn’t brooding, he was fuming about the men that paid for Myrrai. He didn’t particularly care for the girl, but hated the thought of men lusting for the dream that was his late queen.

“Today is your most fortunate day!” Salladhor called out as he returned to his brothel.

Davos could be seen giving mistrusting looks at the sellsail. 

“You wanted me to get you to our grace” he walks over to a large ottoman and plops down.

“You mentioned that the sewers are closed off, and that the maybe the Queen will present herself at the tourney” he snapped his fingers in request for a flagon of wine.

“But the closest we can get would be at the highest part of the stadium, where the common folk can afford to sit” he crossed his legs and tilted his body forward “We can sit closer, but again... with him it makes things difficult”

“So, what are you proposing?”

“I propose you fight for me” he flopped his back again into the ottoman and took a sip, letting his idea sink.

“Fight?... For you?!... Your insane!” Davos shot up and paced the room

“Of course, you have no trust on a pirate... but I am very inclined on the idea of getting my ships” he swirled his goblet 

“Never” pushed Davos utterly perturbed at the idea. 

Myrrai quietly sat knitting the lace she had been working on. Jon was too intoxicated to even think, as Tyrion could tell by the way he grabbed his head between his hands keeping it stable as he leaned forward in a chair.

“He is right you know” she finally spoke up, everyone but Jon turning to look at her

“The fighters are the only ones close enough to the Queens box” she placed her lace down and walked over to Jon kneeling in front of him and putting his chin in her hand slightly raising it up.

“you are more than a simple Westerosi, I see the eyes of many men who want to lay with the Queen...but you’re not one of them”

Jon tried to move his head away but couldn’t stop looking at Myrrai.

“your eyes try to deceive you, but you know in your heart I am not her” she turned to Davos

“You and the red headed man have it the easiest, you already common folk...act like it”

“You” she pointed at him

“There is always fools... wear a mask”

“Sober up unless you want to die and not see what you came looking for” with that she let go of Jon and walked over to where she had her lace, picking it up to join the rest of the women in the brothel.

“She even acts regal at times!” Salladhor chuckled and carried on

“You will only fight prisoners or free men who want glory”

“Fine” mumbled Jon

“It’s not like its any use sitting here and waiting for another opportunity”

The tourney was in a few days, and that would probably be the closest any of them could get to see who Daario paraded around as Daenerys. Though the more he thought of it, the more obvious the answer became.

* * *

 

“I am Roanne” a guard clad in a reinforced leather jerkin, boomed. On his legs silver greaves, with embossed scales, and on his shoulders spiked larps that resembled the spikes on Drogons back.

“I shall be your guard for the next few days, which will probably be the last of your miserable lives. People did not pay for you for the pleasure of your company” he pushed a prisoner back into line

“they paid it so that they could profit from your death…and as you were a burden to your bitch of a mother since whelping, you shall be a burden here until your end. And when you die, and die you shall, it shall be to lift this burden you have bestowed upon our lands”

Tyrion heard the speech from his end of the camp. Jon was not in that group of men, he had been ushered away to be sorted by skill by another guard. He was thankful that there were no unsullied at this particular moment, as Roanne and his group could be heard calling out 

"Prisoners" ... "Fighters".

All the while he could see Salladhor talking to another smaller guard and placing a bet on Jon. Tyrion scratched at his neck, his face had been painted white, and on top of his head he wore a floppy hat comprised of three points protruding in different directions, each with a bell attached to their point so that the hat jingled whenever he bobbed his head. He thought about all the times he had given advice, and how a proper fools attire should have been donned during those days. He bobbed his head again, as he joined the other imps nearby, how they could cluster so many at a time stumped him.

“What is your name?!”

He could hear the guard calling out, he turned his head quickly, the bells jingling with the sudden jerk.

“Aegon” 

“To the end of the line”

He had noted that’s where all the skilled swordsmen and sellswords had been ending up. Jon wore his hair down and loose, resembling that boy he was at Castle Black with torn jerkins and dull swords. Yet, it was undeniably visible, he was anything but that boy anymore. A large guard slamed his swords hilt into Jon’s stomach causing him to collapse, but he stood back up in defiance. He hit him a second time, and he could see Jon stammering to stay up before he fell to the ground on his knee. Tyrion, could Roanne walking to the back to stop the large Guard as he is about to make the third blow, calling out for him to stop.

“He mocks her graces family”

“That is enough for the moment Naacario. His time will come." 

Jon could be seen looking at Naacario with a slight grin as he turned and walked away. _Seven Hells Jon, don’t get killed now._

He could hear the crowd in the arena, the thunder rising under the bleachers as the crowd stamped their feet cheering. Nearby he could see a juggler, some merchants calling out their wares, and the crowd of high lords visiting and moving about. Another guard was giving the group of imps a talk of encouragement, after all, they were brought there to make money or have a chance at freedom. Neither was a reason for him to be there, maybe it’s was his time for his own redemption  

"Some of you are thinking right now that you cannot fight, some of you that you won’t. All men even complete ones say that until they are out there” he points to the wooden gates. 

“Trust your instincts and remember that her graciousness will be joining us today on this blessed day” he boomed as another guard pushed a cage to the gate leading into the arena. Somehow, his instincts told him it was not a typical fool’s show. 

The gates were pushed open, and all the tiny men ran out into the dust bowl, waving small dull swords in the air. They gather together in the middle of the pit, their backs to each other, and blinded by the dust that they had emitted with their scampering. The dust was thick and kept him from seeing the raised platform. He could hear a familiar voice, laughing and talking. He withdrew into the outer edge of the cluster, looking to see who might be in the box.

It was Naharis. Tyrion flipped the bell that dangled in front of him trying to see past the dust, but all he saw was Daario, a group of eloquently dressed men, and a young girl that stood behind them. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, _maybe Jon had been right, maybe it was all a farce_. He didn’t have time to think though, as the group of men quickly scattered again, yelling and running with little bells clinking and clanking all around. 

A lion tied to a long iron chain had been released into the pit. It roared in agitation and had begun charging and swatting at the tiny men. The irony of it all.

As he ran as far as he could from the beast, he could see the crowd was betting and posting their marks on a chalk board, as they dropped silver or gold into a large wooden trunk. He could see Daario looked around the arena in apprehension, not paying attention to the ridiculous spectacle in front of him. Finally, a few less imps and a now fed lion, the horns blared, and the gates where opened once again. He made sure he was the first to push himself to the front to be the first back in. They were each awarded a few Targeryan pennies and the promise of more. He flipped the coin around, Aegon I was imprinted on the other side. 

Jon waited patiently by the lineup, a number was being painted on his back, and chest. They had been selecting helmets and receiving spears or swords, but Jon waved them off preferring to use Longclaw. On his head he wore a simple dark mask that covered all his face, leaving only his eyes to pierce through, and a wisp of his dark black curls underneath. He finally made eye contact with Tyrion, hope-full that he could give him the news that he wanted, but he could only shake his head in disappointment. Jon’s eyes grew dark, and sullen.

The guard in charge of the freemen called out with instructions before they were singularly released into the arena. 

"If her Grace enters, raise your weapons, salute her, even if it’s in the middle of a fight. Face her, and do not turn your back on her, she is granting you the opportunity for prosperity and safety, you fight at your own will. Go and die with honor"

On the other side a similar speech was being given to prisoners. The gates opened, and one by one the fighters inched their way closer to the gate. Sometimes the crowd would cheer and other times the crowd wood boo. Each time the doors would open, a body would be dragged in and the surviving men let through to rest. It seemed like an eternity, but it was finally Jon’s turn. The gate doors opened, he turned back to look at Tyrion. He nodded. It was almost a farewell of sorts, and his heart sunk again. 

He made his way to stand under the stands, he was small enough to fit perfectly underneath. Where he stood, a chunk of the barrier was missing from previous fights, there was clawing and tearing at the walls, Tyrion dusted it off and peered through, his bell making soft sounds from his movements.

In front of him stood the raised platform, where Daario now stood. He had summoned both fighters to stand still. The crowd had gone quiet, and a sudden rush of unsullied made their way to surround the arena on their designated platforms. Tyrion swallowed a lump in his throat, as Jon stood proud in the middle of the arena, the other fighter standing nearby. After, all the unsullied moved into position, it was then that the young girl who stood by Daario walked towards the steps that led up to the platform. Nearby stood the Queens entrance, a light colored shadow moved into view. 

Tyrion near fainted when he saw the small woman walk out of the private gate. She wore a loose white dress, that made her look like she glided on the dusty ground, her hair loose and shining silver with the rays of the sun, a thin crown adorned her head, a single dragon. In her arms a small bundle, that she delicately passed off to the young girl. Daario hurriedly made his way to the steps, giving his arm to help her walk up them. He smiled and bowed his head, she returned the gesture, but her smile was not as genuine.

Another guard made his way to the front of the platform and began to recite

“All rise for you stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful Queen of the Andals, and the First Men, Protector of Nine Kingdoms of Essos, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, the Risen” 

He saw Jon drop to his knees, shaken, at what he saw. Inside, Tyrion felt his stomach rile with feelings of an upset stomach, as he emptied his morning fast.


	28. Daenerys VII

Late at night when the world was sleeping, the stars filled the sky like small jewels embezzled on a black silk cape. Its vastness brought humbleness and gratitude for the coziness of her bed. No matter what had passed, Deanerys started seeing each night sky as a fresh gift given anew. It was the moment that anyone that would have known her, knew that she had strived for. As two dark violet eyes looked up at her, her breathing deepened just a little. In that moment she began to cry the sweetest tears she's had ever known, all the pain she had ever endured slowly melting away.

Every night now, she stayed up and watched the tiny person swaddled in her arms. He felt so light, looked so perfect and smelled so utterly unworldly. She pushed back the soft linens that covered his tiny head, giving his crazy mass of silky black curls a tender kiss. Although everything seemed right in her world, she couldn’t stop thinking of him. As much as it pained her to say, she wished on the stars that somewhere he was thinking of her too.

She slid her pinky into the babes open hand,and watched as his tiny fingers curled around it, with closed eyes. His tiny nose, breathing into her chest,as his soft pink lips dreamily suckled on. She closed her eyes, and let her dreams slowly come. She knew, she would be dreaming of him tonight. Daenerys held Joreah tightly, knowing there was nowhere in the world she rather be, than here with him.

She stood near a river, its waters murky with steam rising from it. She could see across the other side of its banks, a wolf crept along stunning towers situated in the midst of a lush jungle she had never seen before. She took a step into the water, the steam rising with every step that she took. She could feel a breeze caress her body, it swirled around her lifting her silver hair, and blinding her from her view.

Then she was near him, walking ahead and moving through a thicket of brush. She wondered if he could see her. She wondered out loud “what am I doing here” He froze, did he know I'm here? “Am I here??” She began to fade Am I?

She then found herself standing in the middle of a field of corpses, they were burning, and she could smell the stink of the ash. The wolf stood there, but his shadow was that of a dragon. He looked into her, could he see how she felt inside? could he see her? did he even care? She just wanted to be held close, but still far.

  _All I have are dreams of you_ , she whispered somehow knowing this was Jon

This was the only place she had the courage to say, how she felt, how she needed him to know how much she had loved him. Without him, Joreah would have never been born, she knew it deep in her soul.

 _He’s_ _here_ she whispered, _he’s_ _here_ _can’t_ _you_ _see_? She pointed to her chest, but he couldn’t see, he only clawed at the ground, and tears began to pour down her face, hitting the ash covered ground and sizzling as it did. _He’s_ _here_ , she called out, but he wasn’t, and she couldn’t show him.

 She sunk to her knees trying to get the wolf to see, she tried to get him to look at her, but as she placed her hands on his thick white fur, it all began to fall in clumps, revealing scales and claws of a dragon, his eyes shown steel and grey and spread his wings, as everything turned dark and she woke, her face stained wet.

She looked down at her chest, and there was Joreah, sleeping soundly as little puffs of air escaped his lips, the only sweet soft sounds he made.

Life was pulling her forward into the unknown, on one hand she had begun erasing her past by focusing on the needs of Essos. But her thoughts were thicker than the bricks that made up the Great Pyramid.

"will he ever know? and should I care?” She mumbled 

_One day he will want to know, and I can color it like spring, and if the truth comes out will I tell him? I won't._

She turned around to see her prints, she wasn't in her bath anymore, but they were still wet. She could see where she had been pacing in her room, as Joreah was nestled safely in his small cot. She knelt next to him, grabbing his soft feet with her hands and giving them a kiss.

“Well, Well” a voice called out “I've always pictured you either fighting or conquering, not loving”

“Well, I have had some experience with both, but none with loving, I suppose” she traced her finger on the plump cheeks on the babe “Well, none with pretty little princess” she traced her finger on the plump cheeks on the babe.

“Oh, so you have loved?”

She turned her head to look at Daario, he stood in the doorway looking at her. She turned her head back around, ignoring his comment.

“And now, with your permission, I'll must go to work again” he stepped into the apex of her chamber

“The men we have in Tyrosh have heard talk of your Banners in Westeros”

“What... Oh? It must be talk of the iron born when they pledged fealty to me” she thought of Yara and Theon, news must travel slow from Westeros to her side of Essos

“Its nothing to worry yourself about, Im sure Torgo Nudho will let us know if it’s more than that”

“Well! He usually does those things, you know” he came closer to her “but there is more to it than that”

She covered Joreah with a light linen sheet, with laced edges and stood up. She made her way out into the terrace of her apex, with Daario following her out.

“Tell me?” She finally spoke

“The banners fly a white wolf in the heart of the dragon...they were last seen heading down to the step stones”

 In that moment the whole world could have blown away in a sand storm. She could smell the earth as if it had been wiped clean, as if all the plant life was suddenly gone. Her feet bare, the only reason she knew the ground was still there. Everything else was dissolving like it had never been there at all, like the creation of life had yet to even exist, or perhaps it had never even been. In that moment of darkness, she couldn’t even get a sense that anything had been important at all life, death, pain.

A small whimper brought her back to reality, she turned into the direction of Joreah’s cry, but he still slept soundly.

“Torgo Nudho has sworn to kill anyone from those lands that come for me”

Torgo Nudho had said that if Jon ever set foot south of the Wall again, he'd kill him. _Could it be that a man as honorable as Jon betray his exile? No,_ she thought. _It must just be men talking of when they Saw both Banners flying together during the long night_ …she tried to brush the thought out of her mind.

“Do you have a map of the Narrow Sea?”

“I am sure one of the Maesters has one”

“If that would be all, I’d like to be alone now” she needed some time to think, think of the many different ways she could try making Essos safe for her son.

“Before I go, one word more?” He came closer to her, placing his hands on each of her arms and looking down at her eyes. His eyes shone brown like the boiled leather on his chest, the color of earth, and wood, and the large trees that covered the North. She pulled away.

“Braavos” he finally said, slightly looking away in frustration

 _Of course, they needed to talk about Braavos. As it had always had a tumultuous relationship with Westeros. One giving, the other taking, loans, and trades and a common enemy_...she thought.

“I know you’ve been very with your son...but I thought you might like to talk about the Iron Bank”

“What? What about the Iron Bank?” she said in agitation, her head began hurt with political talk so early in the day.

“It's the treasure house of Braavos, and of most of the known world West. With enough gold to... Oh, but you're much too busy. We'll talk about it tomorrow” He began to walk away with a smirk

“What about it Daario?” she said under her breath, she hated these games he played.

“Well, the road to winning Braavos lies through the Iron Bank” he grinned “as the Queen of Essos, allying with the Bank could...”

“Why didn't you say that right away?”

“My tongue was bewitched by beauty” he licked his lips and smiled

“The man in you seems even braver than the general that stands in front of me”

“Gorgeous…” he came closer again, the wind rustling his hair.

“Sit down” she raised her voice

“Daenerys...” he tried to reach out for her to hold her near.

“Now” her voice emotionless, flat.

“Now, what do you want me to do? I still crave to give you…” he plopped down on a settee nearby

“The Iron Bank” she quickly interrupted, curving the topic back to politics.

“Ah” he could tell he was hitting a brick wall with her

“its gold would pay your armies for a century”

“Well! Now that's something to talk about, if they actually needed us”

“Yes, but…what Lannister is going to pay them back?”

“Daario” her eyes widened, she had been too engulfed in her own death to realize another queen had fallen, one that would never rise again.

“Come to my chambers tonight and dine…well talk about such plans”

“Are your plans for Essos or me?”

“Both., I mean shouldn't a queen choose for her sake a confidant?”

“The word is does not imply one with personal needs, that lust often seeks”

“The heart takes what it wants”

She shook her head, he had been her own guard,her only safety, but she did not lust for him...as he did her.

“I have walked miles across the desert, through the Dothraki Sea to find the Khalaasar, to bring the Khalessi the heads of the Sons other two Generals. Just seeing you, was magic enough... my now immortal Queen”

“That's quite a speech, I suspect  your tongue is no longer bewitched by my presence, eh?”

“No, It's my heart now”

“That's a strange thought, to hear from you” her own thoughts darkened, it would have been different if his consistent pestering was that much more of primal urges.

“I've never loved before” he murmured

“Love?” she did not want to hear about that, she was scorned by feelings of love. It made her stomach reel at the thought.

“If you'd bring true the dreams of love, then do so for the Kingdom and have that fill your pretty head...leave love for me alone”

“I can't...It's too late” his voice filled with honey

“Ah” she did not have the energy to curve this conversation without ill feelings, but just as it was too late for him, it was too late for her too. She messed with the ring she had on her right hand.

“Will you do something that will make me very happy?”

“I am here to make you very happy” he smiled, his teeth glistened in the light, standing up to get close again.

“Then hold my son, and love him like your own”

“hold Joreah? And love him?... but I do” his face showed confusion

“pick him up Daario, and tell me you would walk through the the desert as you had for me...for him”

“Is that’s what you think? that I wouldn’t do so?... for you anything!”

“If I were to die, would you devote yourself to him? or am I wrong?”

“Let's not talk at all tonight about death”

“Perhaps there's nothing to talk about, ever”

“You don't trust me?”

“No” it was the truth, he wanted her, maybe felt something for her, but love? Enough to keep Joreah safe? No.

“And if I said I would, you wouldn't believe me? he looked to the sky, searching for something, she would never know.

“No” her eyebrows arched in irritation

“And if I implored you to marry me, you wouldn't?” he looked at her with longing

“I will never marry again” this was also true, there was no one she felt safe enough to further expose herself to, much less her son.

“Together we could conquer the world” he looked out into Dragons Bay

“and my child?” she asked again, reminding him she was no longer alone, something he seemed to forget.

Daario, walked over to the small cot, squatting down next to it. Joreah, slept peacefully inside. He carefully lifted the tiny bundle trying carefully not to wake him.  
“Have you ever thought what your life is worth?” she asked him, a seemingly small threat, inconspicuous to most.

“Well, it's worth a great deal to me” he stared at the child, and even though he tried, she could tell it pained him to see another mans child in his arms.

“but It is not worth a great deal to others…His is” she took Joreah from him

“And while I'm only the Queen of Essos...Joreah, if he lives…” she swallowed what felt like knives going down her throat “he has claim to be the Emperor of the known world”

“If he lives? Claim?” he exclaimed in bewilderment, he paced the terrace.

“Yes Daario, I was not lying when I said he is Targeryan, and we both know life is a precious thing…that some would not mind smiting from the world” she knew it, for she had wiped a city clean.

"you said his father was no threat" he proclaimed in agitation.

"He is no threat because he was exiled!" her voiced raised in anger

"exiled?" he sputtered

she could see his head trying to understand, he didn't know the whole story of what happened in Westeros, only bits and pieces he had stitched together from various sources. 

"Yes, exiled.. to never have claim to the crown, to never father another Targeryan heir...when he killed me" she began to sob

"when he drove that dagger into my heart...his own family thought that by exiling him to take the black, the Targeryan line was wiped out"

She held Joreah to her heart, giving him gentle kisses, as her tears streamed down her face "his father is the True Heir of the Targeryan lineage...and he has no idea his son even exists"

Two little eyes opened up, and searched for her face. He cooed, and yawned, as two little hands pawed for her chest.  

* * *

 

On reflection she thought that her destiny was to only birth dragons into the world, a mother of monsters as many called them. Her family had been made up of sellsowrds, former slaves, and barbarians she'd taken in from all kinds of backgrounds. She became their mother, their Mysha, but nothing had prepared her for the love that blossomed from this tiny being.

He was so sweet, innocent, and free of all the evil in the world. She feared the coin the gods would flip, _And if they did would his be to delve into madness? Was that all that had to do with it? A simple flip of the coin?_ It's all she could think of, _Jon’s coin had never flipped, but if Joreah’s did, would she stop it? Would anyone?_ It was something that pushed her inner turmoil of a mother's love. _Like her own mother, crossing the sea to save her other children, because her son couldn’t keep himself from loving someone that would start a war. Even Cersei, in all her despicable ways had one positive trait, and that was her insatiable need to protect her children._

“Is there anything I can do for you your grace?

“No, just go and keep company to Lord Naharis for now” in truth, she did not want to go see men inflict death upon each other in her name; much less watch imps running around like chickens with their heads cut off, she had seen enough of that. Then again, she had to go put on a smiling face to the public, as they seemed impatient to see the crown prince.

“Are you going to eventually join him?” Alaine asked with worry, spreading a stunning white gown on her bed. She leaned in to give Joreah a kiss on his head. He laid on his stomach snoozing against the white furs of a winter hare.

“Yes, I will go...just not right now. I will have the unsullied escort me when I’m ready” and with a bow of her head the young girl left her chambers.

Daenerys walked over to Joreah, sitting down next to him. He wore a knitted grey romper, made of the down of that year’s lambs first shearing. She caressed his back, feeling his little body move with her touch. He looked so much like Jon at that moment, she thought, a sad smile forming on her lips.

Daario, had come in earlier that morning, to bring her news of the many nobles that would be joining them during the tourney. She had been feeding the tiny prince while he spoke, and she could not help but notice how uncomfortable that made him. As soon as the babe had his fill, he turned his little face away. Her sore pink nipples exposed to the air, milk dripping down to her chest, as a white rivulet snaked its way onto the burning red scar beneath her left breast.

“Can you hold him while I clean up?”

“Ah, yes” he nervously grabbed the child, his stomach making a swishing sound, as the milk moved around inside.

“Did you know he would betray you?” he quietly asked

She thought long about his question. Did she ever expect Jon to pierce her heart as their lips pressed upon each other? Maybe not then. She had cornered him, she had tried to force him to keep his lineage a secret, threatened fear into their lives, going back on everything she stood for. Did he ever expect her to smite a whole city?

Her heart sank, she could still hear him pleading for her mercy, she could still hear the screams of innocent children as the fire consumed them. If she could do that, wouldn’t she have done the same to those he loved? Did he love her? She remembered his eyes, filled with sorrow and pain, she could hear his cries as she drifted off into darkness, and the hot sting of his tears falling onto her face.

She wiped herself clean, and covered her chest back up, taking her son in her arms once again.

“I gave him no choice” was all she could answer

* * *

 

The city felt void of any warmth that made it worthy of that term. It was an accumulation of buildings, and roads laid like a carpet for a queen that almost never came. Banners hang with the red dragon sigil to be read only by the wind that peppered them with dust.

The market was still all set up like it awaited the stall holders to come back at any moment. The only sounds were of that of a few black birds squabbling over the tasty scraps the people had left them. “Kraw” “Kraw” The words that spoke to nobody, blissfully unaware that their usual spectators had vanished. The streets now lay silent beneath her feet, save the Unsullied that walked with her.

It was as if time had stopped, removing all the distractions, so she could see the city for how it really was, what it really was. In that moment all she had wished for came to realization, it wasn’t the stone walls, the bustling city, the dirt roads or standing monuments made in her form, it was another beating heart, another being of warm blood and flesh, to walk next to hers.

She had wanted to take this walk, to give herself a moment away from the constant, mindless babble of politics, and the luxuries of highborns. She was only accompanied by her most loyal guards. It was a refreshing moment, to be back on level ground, back to a time where she had to walk like every other person around.

If she stood still enough, perhaps time would indeed freeze, perhaps it was just her bones that had yet to realize it, but time was spinning faster than she could control. She kissed Joreah, who looked lovingly into her eyes.

Would she ever be able to share the passage of time with another, as her son grew strong, as she equally grew weak with age? Would she ever be able to look back and say she had done right?

  
She took one more turn into a road, they had been freshly painted as per her request. A reminder to her, of a city long gone through the means of fire and blood. No one was different, no one was more than the other, they all in the end bled the same color.

Noise began to come back, outside Daznaks pit. The city once again boomed with life. The market had moved to portable stands, and merchants and buyers, busied around the brick walls.

Inside she could hear the ring of metal against metal, and the screams and sounds of life both given and taken within the brick walls. Her silent companions, hurried to open the gates, and a cold gust of wind came blowing through the darkened corridors.

She stepped inside, thinking of the day that Drogon had flown in to save her, from the attempt of her demise. _He always knew,_ somehow her winged son always knew when she needed him... _and yet…he let her die._

She tried to shake off the off the feelings of anguish, and walked through the opening where light shone through, as bright as the sun.

* * *

 

A grand view of the pit could be seen from the steps of the platform. Daario greeting her with a kiss to her hand.

“Your people bid you welcome, your Grace”

"Mysha, Mysha, Mysha" can be heard from the crowds. The unsullied rush to their posts, as she makes her way into the arena. When she steps through the door, the crowd becomes silent, the fighter’s stepping back. Except for one who pauses and falls to his knees.  

She nods to them, as the crowd cheers loudly. One opponent, stood proud, glistening in the sun with beads of sweat trickling down his arms, waiting for the signal to take out the other. The crowd still calling out, "Mysha, Mysha, Mysha".

The fighters were positioned in front of the platform, "We who are about to die, salute you". Only one of them seems restless, failing to make such a salute. He was a slightly smaller man, yet appearing larger than all.

Without thought, and a slight wave of her hand she gives the signal.

The larger man charges forward without emotion, rushes on trying to dispose of the other opponent, thrusting his sword grunting at each thrust. Having quickly reacted the other man guards himself from his opposition, looking up at her, his sword weak in his hand.

The other man rushes his sword, sensing distraction? trying to strike at his opponent. Only to be startled by his opponent’s casual deflection of his strenuous efforts.

The crowd roared egging the men to fight, screaming for the smaller man to put more effort into it. He switched his sword from one hand to the other, the pommel glistened familiarly with the sun. He stands ready to finish off Loran, from what she had heard the crowd call him.

She leaned into Daario, “who is he?” she asked with curiosity pointing at the nameless man.

“who knows the name of number twenty nine?” Daario looked around, as the others tried to gather information for him. He turned and smiled to Daenerys, taking the opportunity of their closeness to kiss her on the cheek. She quickly moved her head away, glaring at him with annoyance.

Suddenly, in that split second, the nameless man turns and spears Loran with his sword. He pushed the now dying body off of his sword letting it drop to the sand. The crowds cheer wildly. Loran is bending over in pain, blood pouring from the opening of his mask, tipping over into the ground. He is finished.

The crowd cheers "Aegon, Aegon, Aegon". With sword in hand, standing over the fallen Loran, the man looks up at her, grey eyes staring from inside his helm. She feels something inside, a pang in her heart, the blood rushing from her face.

Number twenty nine pulls of his helm, and lifts his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. He drops his sword, and falls to his knees once again, tears running down his face, ready to receive whats coming for him.

The unsullied enter and encircle him as Daario drops down from the platform into the arena approaching the man that had caused panic in her eyes. Everything moving slowly nearby.

Then, calling out through the now silenced crowd, He spoke

"Daenerys!...Dany, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Why you are here??!!"

The crowd stood silenced as Daario kicks his sword away, spitting in disgust as he begins to lift him by his chest plate up into the air. The crowd cheers uncontrollably. Jon, lowers his head, awaiting his sentence.

"Stop!” she called out to Daario, his eyes staring at her in confusion.

“Your not truly going to let him live are you?” Daario sputtered

“Take him” she got up from her chair, as she did Joreah began to cry.

The unsullied had grabbed Jon by the arms, twisting them at his back. She began her descent back down the stairs, the crowd now whispering amongst themselves. As her son wailed in discontent, the wind picked up enough to flip the linens that wrapped him slightly off his face. His dark violet eyes, shone bright against his ivory skin and raven black hair.

“Who’s?” His rough Northern voice called out, as her guards held him down. She didn’t want to turn, she didn’t want to hear his voice, she didn’t want to gaze upon his eyes. For she knew if she did, she would fall for him again.

“Dany...please tell me” he begged as she neared to gates. Daario followed his gaze, both men staring at her, waiting for a response. She turned to look behind her shoulder, her eyes making slight contact with his.

“Yours” she whispered.

 

* * *

 

“Daenerys, this man put a dagger through your heart”

Daario’s words fell out of his mouth like vapor to land in her chest as arrows. She feel her insides tear, and the blood drain from her face. She would laugh at his concern, but he was deadly serious.

His eyes shown a cold like she had never seen, his features emotionless. He looked like someone who was about to vomit. He hands her longclaw, she gripped at the pommel, and let it fall as soon as its weight pulled on her strength. There, the hard sound of metal on marble clanged in the dead silence between them, but neither of them move to pick it up.

She was trying to understand the words he's telling her but she couldn’t, her own voice muffling everything around her.

_Does he love me? he must have had for no one could lie for so many years, and to be honest she still felt it in the way he looked at her._

but it was not Daario on her mind _._

Then he turns to go, shoulders sunken and his left hand on his hip. Before she knew what she was doing, she moved out of his way, locking eyes in the process, as she could see his restraint.

A few moments later he returned, and not to pleased, with his new found adversary. One he was not allowed to touch.

“Why are you here?”

“I had been hearing rumors of...our sigil still flying over essos”

“Why are you here?!” She asked again her voice shaking

“I told you!, I thought he was using your name for his own gain” he pointed to Daario with a flick of his chin. His hands still tied to his back, but his presence still as royal as it had always been. Daario took a deep breath, holding back his tongue.

“And if he was?!”

“Dany...” his face said everything

“You’d thrust a dagger in his heart too?” Her voice filled with daggers

He dropped his eyes again, she could see him holding tears back and swallowing his pain.

“You gave me no choice Dany...” his voice almost a whisper, a lie he told himself.

“You had a choice Jon...you always had a choice” she remembered the choices she gave him, she was lying to herself. The choice was hers, and his, and hers and his.

“Dany... without you...I was good as dead”

“Then why aren’t you?!” She raised her voice

“I needed to make things right...I needed to free your name”

Gods she hated him.

“Jon you murdered me!...you drove a cold piece of metal through my heart, while you devoted your love to me?! She paced the room “you think me mad?”

“No Dany...it took me far too long to realize you where anything but that”

She grabbed the nearest thing to her, a large green vase that stood upon a marble pillar. It was smooth and cold to the touch, she threw it at him, barely hitting him, and shattering near his feet. He barely moved, green and red clay fragments scattered around him, his eyes fixed on hers  
A small cry, could be heard echoing from down the corridors. She saw Jon nervously look in its direction. She paced the room, Daario making eye contact with her, she gave a slight nod and he called for Alaine.

The young girl came quickly, holding a now inconsolable Joreah. She handed the small bundle to Daenerys. She put her lips on the soft forehead of the tiny babe, and began rocking him, her anger quickly dissipating. She could see Jon’s eyes pooling with tears, as she quietly rocked the sniffling bundle. Only his soft cries, and a song of soft air passing through her lips, could be heard.

Daario cleared his throat, and stepped towards her. He placed his hand on the small of her back, to turn her attention to him. To distracted by her need to calm her startled son, she allowed the gesture.

“Dany...?” Jon called, his voice shaking.

“Hmm?”

“Please?” She knew what he meant, but Daario quickly interrupted.

“You should have him put down, like the dog he is...my grace”

Jon glared at Daario, anger seething on his face. Tears, had marked his cheeks, as they made their way down his dust stained face. Daario neared Jon, he was not much taller than him. Both men stood straight, if they had been out in the pit, death would surely have taken them both.

“Daario, please?”

“Your grace..?”

She could see her own pain mirrored in Jon’s dark eyes. His constant need for duty had ripped him from her, from his son, his birth and the quest for unrequited happiness they both had lacked their entire lives. No matter how much pain Jon had inflicted upon her, she could not refuse his call to see his own flesh and blood. She neared him, cautiously standing a few feet away from him. She was severely inflicted with intense feelings, that riled any she had ever felt.

She carefully pulled on the swaddled bundle, and showed Jon. Both had tears running down their faces. He took a moment to look up at her, his eyes glistening with sadness, fear and happiness. An almost invisible smile crept on his lips.

“Joreah?”

She simply nodded.

“I know Ser Jorah and your mother would have loved such a fine gesture”

He heart shattered into a thousand pieces, the pain of his dagger did not compare to the one she felt at that moment. Holding herself together, biting her lower lip, she turned away.

“Please take him” she barely could muster to say.

As she left the large chamber of the great hall. She broke down, her eyes now a waterfall of desolation. She put Joreah down on her bed, and snuggled next to him. She drew her breath, her eyes stinging and blurred from her tears. Closing her eyes, all she could wish for, was for him to tell her everything was going to be alright.


	29. Jon X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never mind, I will keep going chronologically. There may be little jumps in time, especially since the Tyrion chapters will end soon. 
> 
> Sorry for the confusion, I should have listened to my inner thoughts the first tie around. There will be new POV's introduced, and they will inter wind with Danys and Jon's, feel free to skip them if needed.
> 
> Also, if you already read the POV from Jon, this one will explain his feelings when he first saw Dany, when he interacted with her and a little insight on how Daario and him interact. There is some repetition, which is why at first I wanted to skip this portion.

The scents of blood and sweat lingered on the fingers of the warm breeze that circled around him. Beside him, a prisoner he had come to know as Loran, towered above him. He had taken the life of an Astapori noble a few months before because he failed to pay him his wages. Jon did not want to fight him, his sword was stained with rust, and the armor her wore was of Westerosi armies that had seen better days, but he himself was not of those lands judging from his accent.

The man that sat on the platform, was a good head taller than him, skin bronzed from days in the sun scorched lands of Essos, and long brown hair that slightly curled at its ends. He laughed, and conversed with other men of obvious noble upbringing, but he wasn’t like them. His hands showed callused palms, and scars that adorned his skin. His armor, was like that of the guards he had met earlier, except for a few more embellishments, and obvious care to his image. A young girl stood behind him. Her hair shown almost black, mirroring the color of her eyes. It felt almost surreal to know this is how easily these people could follow a false Crown.

He gripped Longclaws pommel, the usually cold stone was warm to the touch here. He searched the crowd, at middle level of the sun soaked bleachers, sat Salladhor and Tormund. The wooden board at the entrance had the different markings of all the bets placed on each contestant, his was number twenty nine. If he won, he’d be on the short list of contestants who would be in line to win freedom or gold, he needed neither. All Jon wanted, was revenge against the man sitting infront of him, as he was reaping the benefits of his house name.

And just like that, the world as he knew it, flipped like the coins all Targaryens were dealt. He had heard of ghosts, many of them were based in Harrenhale, The Nightfort and even down in the crypts of Winterfell. The apparitions where described as pale opaque filmy things that would raise the hairs on your body in a eerie way. Yet what stood infront of him was anything but that. Here, light radiated off a perfectly sculpted goddess that floated above the dusty parched ground. Had The unsullied that marched through those gates swiflty obliterated his life without his knowledge? Or was it Loras who dealt the blow? No, he could still feel himself breathing, he could still taste the salt on his lips, the heat piercing through his light armor, and the small pebbles digging into his knees as he fell to them.

“Dany?” The words fell out of his mouth, but he did not remember uttering them. It could not be, his body had not gone cold, the darkness never came, he knew he was not dead. Like a series of mechanical movements, he had deflected Loras’s attempts to smite him, but he couldn’t take his transfixed eyes off his hallucination. Had he drank to much at the brothel? He tried to think back, but he could not recall.

He felt the familiar feelings of jealousy, he had all those many years ago at Winterfell. The same ones he felt when he was not allowed at the King’s table, or the acknowledgment of ever being a lord, when Robb, Bran and Rickon where the only true sons. The same ones he had when Ser Jorah pledged his devotion to his Queen, and was granted her constant companionship. He had never seen this man, and yet the feeling was there. Did he subconsciously know this was Naharis? was this his mind playing sick tricks on his dehydrated state? he saw her pull away, she didn’t want his lips touching her skin, reeling back like a snack ready to strike.

He needed to see her better, he needed to smell her sweet scent and make sure this was nothing more than a wicked dream. He felt his sword push through the boiled leather, the familiar push back from cartilage and bone being serrated by Valyrian steel. He could smell the strong scent of iron as blood poured from Loras, or was only a trick of the mind recalling the last moments with Dany.

“Daenerys!...Dany, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” His lips moved again, the numbness of their movements as his words spilled out.

It was the sound was what brought him back. The same sound he had heard at King’s Landing. The cries of babes in terror of the sounds of destruction. The piercing cry of a healthy child letting you know of their discontent. He had not noticed the tiny bundle before, he had been too delirious to associate himself with any other beings than those who moved like shadows, in his spinning mind. The eyes, they were hers. Dark downy curls moved with a gust of wind, the wind seemed to call for him, “look” it said, and he did. His heart throbbed with content, but he had never been so lucky, and it must not be.

“Who’s?” but he knew it in his heart, he could see it in her eyes, his eyes. He needed to hear it, to know what his punishment was. He must know what more the Gods had gifted him with, to only show him in dreams what could’ve been, eternal damnation.

“Yours”

He fell again, he was not ready to wake up, “Please” he begged the gods. “Please don’t let me wake”

A sudden blow to the back of his head removed all images, memories and sounds.

* * *

 

It was dark, and cold when he began to stir. He reached for the back of his head, a dull pain radiating from there. His fingers now covered in what he presumed blood, the familiar stick and smell of iron strong on his hand. He closed his eyes, the floor where he lay felt cool against his pain. He tried his hardest to see her again, to see the child, even if it meant waking here again.

“Up!” A gruff voice tainted with a thick accent called out.

He tried pulling himself up, his body ached, and everything spun around him. _Gods_ they had really hit him hard. He sat up for a moment, letting his disorientation subdue before fully rising. As he did, his muscles felt every injury he had received while unconscious. He could feel the caked dirt on his face from where he fell, his lips sore and cracked.

“Her grace call for bastard” the man said again, grabbing Jon and quickly checking to see his ties where still on. _The unsullied had grown bold_ he thought. He only could imagine what Grey Worm would say or do if it was him who came instead. He took a couple more steps, his legs wobbling with each attempt. The area where he was held was dark, nothing but a deep cavernous hole, and narrow steps leading to another just as dark area.

“Up!” he barked again. He did as he was told, up he went, slow and ungracious, but up. He heard the door shut behind him. He squinted his eyes, but it was too dark to make anything out.

“UP!” up? He thought, I am up, I just came up. The unsullied guard came around him, a torch in hand. The small flickers, only going so far to illuminate his face, and a few feet ahead of him.

“you need go up” he moved the torch further out. The dim casting of light illuminated another set of steps. These where steeper, narrow and just as dark as where he stood. It reminded him of the steps to the crypts in Winterfell.

“up..” he whispered to himself. Up he went, his legs almost giving out under him, each step as grueling as the other. Up, and up and up. He had lost count of how many steps he had gone up. _Three hundred and seventy? Three hundred and seventy one, seventy two seventy… why was he counting? He stopped._ Quickly remembering the counting had kept him from remembering his aching body and pains.

He continued again. _eighty five…Well, I made my way inside the pyramid_ He smiled. He began to think of everything that had happened to have led him inside. The slow burn from the torch, the silence between him and the guards, the shuffle of his feet against the stone, and the servants that ran up and down the stairs, some cautiously glancing at him. _ninety six, ninety seven_

His legs burned, and the muscles on his glute’s hot underneath his clothes. The small on his back, now drenched in sweat, as was his nape and hair. His wrists chaffed from his binds, sore from his arms subconsciously trying to pull them to his sides, as he balanced his way up the steps.  
They were finally greeted by another guard, who stood at a small archway, this one lit up, finally giving out daylight behind him.

“Go” Was the only word that was given to him.

He took a few steps forward, being roughly grabbed by the guard and pushed further forward. There, a few more guards awaited while the familiar face of Daario looked upon him. Both men starred at each other, a silent battle brewing between them. He quickly remembered he no longer had Longclaw, Daario had kicked it away from him. He took a deep breath and let himself stand up straight despite his bind and aches.  
The man just sneered at him, and turned his heel, an obvious signal for Jon to follow. Inside, the ceiling must have been thirty feet high or more. He felt dirty, minute, and worthless, as he entered the pristine room. In front of him stood Daenerys’s. Had he still been dreaming? Her sweet smell lingered in the air, the steady breeze bringing it to him.

“Why are you here?” her voice shook. _Why was he here? In Meereen? Truth be told, he had not put much thought into anything else, but to bring justice to their name. He never trusted Brans plan to have him come, and the rumors of the Queen returning to Essos was far too overwhelming for him to believe, that is until the night Tyrion and he walked through the city._

“I had been hearing rumors of...our sigil still flying over Essos” That was true, that he believed. _Enough men had used her to get into power, himself included, even if it was not her…but her name…their name._

“Why are you here?!” Her voice shook again, _did he forget to speak? Or maybe she wanted more elaboration to his reasons, he was never good at talking around her._

“I told you!, I thought he was using your name for his own gain” he pointed to Daario with a flick of his chin. He still had his hands tied behind his back, and he did not want to hear his name, much less say it, as childish as it was.

“And if he was?!”

“Dany...” He wanted to let her know it was not ok, that no man should be uttering her name.

“You’d thrust a dagger in his heart too?”

He dropped his eyes, must they deceive him. No he would not thrust a dagger into him, that was much to personal. He would have no problem, cutting his head off, feeding him to Ghost, tossing him out the heights of this Pyramid, burning him alive. The list could go on, but that’s not what she wanted to hear.

“You gave me no choice Dany...” _Gods! He did have a choice, and he would let the world burn this time around._

“You had a choice Jon...you always had a choice” _He confirmed it again, she was right, he was just to stupid to act out on everything that wasn’t the pristine image of an honorable Stark._

“Dany... without you...I was good as dead” it was his punishment; Jon Snow had died the same day he took her life.

“Then why aren’t you?!” She raised her voice at him

“I needed to make things right...I needed to free your name” No, he needed to free himself, them, all Targeryans, so when death finally came for him he could say he finally did right.

“Jon you murdered me!...you drove a cold piece of metal through my heart, while you devoted your love to me?!” She paced the room “you think me mad?”

“No Dany...it took me far too long to realize you were anything but that” _once again, he was too slow of a learner, maybe Ygritte had been right, he did know nothing_

She grabbed the nearest thing to her, a large green vase that stood upon a marble pillar. She threw it at him, barely hitting him, and shattering near his feet. He barely moved, his eyes fixed on hers, he didn’t want to miss anything, the good, the bad, the ugly. He swallowed her vision, and breathed in the stuffy air between them, searching for her scent.

A small cry could be heard echoing from down the corridors, he turned to look. _please_ he begged the gods _please let me see the child_

  
“Alaine!” Daario called out, and soon enough a young girl came holding a screaming bundle of fine linens, carefully handing it off to Daenerys.

He watched her plant soft kisses on the child’s forehead, slowly rocking him, as her face now slowly turned to a calmer one with love emanating from her yes. He could feel his heart burning with love, the feeling so grand, that tears began to flow out of his eyes. As he heard little whimpers from within her arms, he was quickly overwhelmed with love and joy. Her lips produced a calming song of soft air as it passed through her them, calming him and the babe equally.

  
Daario cleared his throat, breaking that hypnotic moment, stepping towards Dany. Jon watched him place his hands on the small of her back, trying to grab her attention, but truthfully only managing to grasp his. He scanned the room, noticing Longclaw on the floor, but he shook his head trying to get any stupid ideas out of it. He needed to calm, he needed to see what she held so prized within her arms.

“Dany...?” his voice shook, he feared her response.

“Hmm?” she didn’t once look up.

“Please?” he begged.

“You should have him put down, like the dog he is...my grace” Daario spoke to Daenerys. Anger rose within Jon, he still held Dany, his Dany…the mother of his child. His tears had dried, only to be replaced by ones of anger, and self-loathing. If not for his own stupid decisions, he would be holding her instead of him. Daario neared Jon, slightly a bit taller, and looking down on him. Jon stood his ground, squaring himself as best he could.

“Daario, please?” Dany’s voice a bit irritated

“Your grace..?” his voice tinted with confusion, irritated and angered with the presence of him. He stepped away.

She neared him, but he could tell she was cautious and stood only a few feet from him. Carefully, she pulled on the swaddled bundle, and revealed the sweetest face he had ever seen. He remembered when his siblings had been born, he had thought the same, but nothing could compare to what he felt then. He felt his hot tears come back, placing their marks down his face. He did not want to look away, except he needed to confirm this was real. Her eyes met his, they were shimmering with tears of sadness, and happiness, but he smelled her fear, lingering between their sweetness. He couldn’t help but smile, she had always been so brave.

“Joreah?” He would be brave like her, and like the man who risked his life for her, and her mother before him.

“I know Ser Jorah and your mother would have loved such a fine gesture” and just like that everything shattered between them, the pain coming back to her face. She quickly turned away, taking their child with her, Daario sneering at him in the background. _Damn it Jon! Why do You always have to mess things up?!, You should have just kept your mouth shut_.

Everything became a blur from that moment on.He was escorted down the same dark passage of steps. This time his rival behind him, watching him, staring at him with eyes that burned into his back.

“so you think you can just walk back into her life?”

He wanted to respond to him, but that would give him more power than what he already had. So, he just kept quiet.

“You don’t look Targeryean, and neither does your whelp” he sneered “too bad, I had hoped it would have looked like his mother, sadly… I will always have to be reminded of you”

This enraged Jon, he knew this man would not care for his son. He remembered Catelynn, and all the dreadful things she had done to him. He would not allow that to happen, though he doubted Dany would let that happen. He bit his tongue, and kept walking down the steps, his blood rushing through his ears. It felt like they went down faster than it had taken him to go up.

“I will put my own seed in her…I’m sure a child born out of her savior, would be more appealing to her”

He stopped mid step and turned to look at Daario, he took another deep breath, calming himself before he spoke. This man wreaked of arrogance and spite.

“you think too highly of yourself…seems you do not know her well enough”

“I know her very well” he chuckled

Jon did not want to hear it, but it was better to know of it being in the past, and not the present. Then he recalled Tyrion’s words, _“she left him here, though he begged her to stay” she had never loved him_

“and yet…she left you”

stinging words meant for him.

The man grabbed Jon by the throat and slammed him against the wall of the passageway.

“Her biggest mistake was to leave Meereen”

How true it was, but then again if she hadn’t, they would all be dead. Dead, and cold, and living as walking corpses for an army of the dead, for thousands of years, until they had become so brittle they would turn into the snow itself. Then again, now they were both dead, warm living corpses that somehow made a child born from death. A healthy living child, to bring life to their withered hearts.

“No, her biggest mistake was coming back for me” As much as it pained him to say that, it was the truth, but another blow for Daario.

“well it’s a good thing that you and your treacherous group won’t be seeing daylight again”

He pushed Jon down into the darkness, letting him fall, he turned to look at Jon right before he slammed the door shut on him,.

“I hope you can get to hear the sounds of her pleasure when I take her again”

Then all went dark again, letting Jon sit and dwell on everything that had led him there. He needed to make things right, for her and for his son. Even if it meant watching Daenerys love another man, to raise his son as theirs, but Daario was not it. Not him.

 


	30. Tyrion X

 

“What have you done with Jon?”

His calls went unanswered, they had been unanswered, and he had been confined to a cell that was of appropriate size for him. He used a small jagged rock he had found to mark the wall once again. Nineteen times, that’s how many times the guards brought him food. Judging by what was offered, it was at morning and night. He took a piece of sharp cheese, and a slightly past ripe apple from his tray “morning” he mumbled to himself.

He sniffed under his arms, his own ripe body odor was beginning to become a nuisance.

“Lord Davos?” He called out

“Tormund?” He called out louder, he kneeled to the opening under the door and yelled again

“Davos..Tormund?!”

He got no answer, he looked at his marks on the wall. It was around the twelfth mark that he had not heard a response from them, and nothing from Jon since the day at the pits. He got up and grabbed the hat he had worn that day. In his hands he rolled one of the little bells between his fingers, the muted clink of the bell the only response to his silence.

He could still see Daenerys face as she made eye contact with Jon, they filled with anger, sadness, terror and Joy? Was that what he saw? He popped another piece of the cheese in his mouth. Yes, there was a glint of joy in her eyes.

The unsullied had swarmed Jon, and Daario was ready to gut Him if it was not for Daenerys. Actually, come to think of it, he’s probably still alive because of her. A rat crossed underneath the opening underneath the door, dashing to the accumulation of dirtied trays from Tyrions previous meals. He threw a crumb at the rat, it squeaked in surprise, but quickly realized the small morsel it had been given. It looked at Tyrion, and hurriedly scurried away with the sound of metal coming to the door. It swung open, revealing Daario on the other side.

“Tyrion, it’s been a while”

“It has...I would love to ask how you have been managing, but it is clear its better than I”

Daario smiled and gestured for Tyrion to follow him. As two of his guards stood on either side of them, they made their way up the many stairs up to the audience chamber. It had been a long time since he had been in the echoing room with high ceilings.

Not much had changed, the unsullied still stand with their backs to the pillars, though at that moment no one sat upon the plain ebony bench. He had never been in the hall in his current position, and the last conversation with Daenerys was not a comforting one to recall.  _He should be dead, maybe now his time will finally be up_  

They stood in silence, and had been in silence since he left the cell. The silence broke after waiting so long, his ankles began to hurt.

“I’m guessing asking for a glass of wine would be too much?”

Daario only took a deep breath. They stood in silence again, nothing but the sound of water dripping into the pool of water at the bottom of the steps.

“You said it was hopeless for a sellsword from the fighting pits to be a fit consort for a queen”

“And I still stand by that”

“I did not drive a dagger into her heart” Daario snarled

Tyrion bobbled his head in agreement and equal disagreement. They stood in silence again. Daario made his way over to pick up Longclaw, scrutinizing the pommel.

“She said he is Targaryen...but this is a wolf”

“Aye, it is”

“So, she lied to me?”

“No, she tells the truth...but he is Stark too”

“Like your broken king?”

“Old king...and yes that’s his brother, or cousin, I will have to ask him” he chuckled to himself

“Where was Jorah, when it happened?”

“He died protecting her...Funny you should mention him. That bastard sword you hold belonged to the Mormonts”

“So, he’s also guilty for the old man’s death?”

“No, the sword was given to him by Jeor Mormont...Jorahs father, it had been in their family for generations” Tyrion stood still watching Daario inspect the ripples in the steel.

“Valyrian steel”

Daario only grunted. He put the sword back down, and made his way back to Tyrion.

“why not carry his own family’s sword?”

“He was a bastard... well, not truly” it was too long of a story to explain, not like Daario cared much.

“a bastard?”

““Aye...The Bastard of Winterfell, Lord Snow, the nine hundred and nighty eighth Commander of the Nights Watch, the King of the North, the prince who was promised, Azor Ahi, and as you know him Aegon the Sixth Targaryen... he’s got himself a lengthy title just like her”

Tyrion recalled that day in Dragonstone, when Lord Davos only introduced him as Jon, King in the North. He couldn’t help but smile, thus far Jon had never been the sort to enjoy flattery…and his title now negated his ideals.

“The child...I take it’s not yours?”

Daario just cleared his throat and ruffled his own hair as he took ankther deep breath. Tyrion had not heard what Daenerys had answered Jon, but judging from his reaction he had assumed the child was Jon’s.

“his...” Daario rubbed his forehead, conforming Tyrion’s theory.

“Targeryans, always meant for each other”   _always meant for each other..._  his own words echoing in his mind.

“I do not think it’s any of your concern!”

A sharp voice called out from the top of the marble staircase. Thevoice, the same one used on the steps at Meereen. He felt his blood go cold, a curdling feeling.

“Must I remind you of the treachery you have committed against me?”

He knew it, she didn’t need to remind him. What she didn’t know, was how deeply he had concocted his treason. Seven Hells!! He truly hated ever having to paint himself the villain.

“Daenerys, you went behind everything you stood for, burning innocent people and anyone who did not bend the knee”

  
“a bit hypocritical on your end don’t you think?”

She had a point, once Sansa opened the gates to the truth, for her own personal bias, everyone began finding faults in Daenerys. Varys tried dispelling her the same day he found out, and with his own discontent on the way she handled his siblings, he found a way to convince the man she loved that she was a tyrant.

“your state of mind was unfit to rule Daenerys…I’m sure not even Jon would have lasted long after” that was another truth, but Jon didn’t seem to mind death, he had pretty much said so himself.

Her eyes starred at him, he knew he had hit a soft spot. Her lips shut tight against each other. He knew his boldness would come at a cost. He began to sweat, the lingering body odor now saturated the area around him as she continued to stare at him. Her eyes grew lifeless and dull, her jaw tightened, and the ability to swallow obvious as her throat moved underneath her soft skin.

“I admit I may have done an unspeakable crime…but so was his treason, a blood treason and he got to joyfully walked free”

_Blood treason, he felt like he had heard that somewhere before._

“He has had no joy since then...and it was I who told him that you would kill his sisters… otherwise he would have never turned against you” he was as good as dead, he could feel it in his bones, even as little as they were, he believed knew they still burned the same.

“His sisters, cousins whatever it is they go by to him...they would have never accepted my rule over their miserable land”

She was right, they would have never accepted her, or anyone else but their own if they were to be honest.

“But enough pondering the past. They, as well as you have shown your true selves. Now tell me Tyrion, are you to convince Jon to kill me a second time? You know since the first time didn’t go as planned?”

“He’s sooner to plunge a dagger into his own heart than let harm ever come your way ever again…like I said..without you…he’s nothing more than a reanimated corpse living a life sentence”

Dany made her way to the ebony bench and sat down, rubbing her temples. She exhaled, he could see her fighting an inner battle of her own emotions.

Somehow, he felt that she needed someone to talk to. Someone that could sway her in what to do with Jon, the father of her child, a child that shouldn't exist. Someone who she thought would say what was needed to save their own skin.

“Did you know you were pregnant before... before?”

“Before you sent Jon to drive a dagger into my heart?!” her voice cold, never looking up. She looked defeated and tired. Her shoulders were slumped, and her hair loose and upbraided.

“no” her voice almost inaudible

“May I ask how you were brought you back?” he scratched his beard, something was missing, something no books could explain.

“The red priest and their god brought me back” she looked back up. Her hands were now next to her, gripping the wooden bench, her knuckles white.

“R’hllor?” She has never believed in any gods, only herself. Strange she would accept it was a god who brought her back, not her own strength.

She didn't respond.

“The same god who brought Jon back”

She only blinked. Had they ever talked about it? No, Jon was very private about his death.

He remembered the letter he had opened from the red priestess to Bran  _The Gods have decided; a fate was chosen. Dragons do not do well alone or in captivity, the debt has been paid._

“Daenerys, did you see anything when you were…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Her eyes fluttered in annoyance.

“Dead?” Her voice dry

He only nodded

“nothing” still no emotion, lifeless, like she had become.

He had asked Jon the same question. Both saw nothing. They were of the same blood, they walked the same paths, the people they knew, and even the same death…the same, everything the same. Even cursed to never have children, but here they had somehow conceived a child, through death... _could that be her debt? his life was worth thousands?_

“Daario please excuse yourself” she muttered 

“Daenarys, I do not think..”

“Now” she cut him off

he waited until he had made his way to the end off the hall, the scuffles from his boots growing fainter until all you could hear was the drip drop of water hitting the pool again.

"have you seen Jon?"

She just glared at him. He knew her well enough to know, that if he was still alive, so was Jon.

"He always loved you" as awful as it sounded, it was the truth.

"Ha! you both know nothing about love"

“I know enough to tell you that he loves you” he scratched his back, he felt itchy, or maybe he was nervous.

“Even against the own wishes of his family, was he set on being with you… think about it Daenerys... He brought a southern conqueror to his lands, he bent the knee when it was not necessary, he paraded your rule around while he meekly went about, being despised by his people for doing so”

“are you blind?! inebriated? Or both? They didn’t hate him, they hated me...he loathed me!” she growled like a scared animal showing its last bit of strength before submitting to their fate

“even if they did…was it not plain to see that after all the executions, the burning of an entire city, and the veiled threat against his sisters... and somehow I do not even think that was enough... " He paced a little, he wanted to scream  _"think about how hard it took me to get Jon to plunge that dagger into you, he went through incredible lengths to keep you alive, and on this pedestal he had you on, he even pushed the notion of incest away to have the love be palpable by a stark”_

"to keep him from giving himself to you. I'm sure he even begged you... I do not know " He stood there watching her, a tear rolling out from her left eye.

“whatever it was, that was what turned him, not I, not his sisters, not the death and destruction…only you… and it ruined him all the same” he realized it was the same here, no matter what anyone could tell her, she’s still loved him.

There was a long pause of silence before she finally moved. Her head turned to her opening into the hall, tiny windows looking out into her city. She stood up and made her way over to the edge of the steps, her hand grabbing the massive pillars and resting her head against the cold stone.

"they don’t get to choose...” her eyes swelled in a river of tears. She choked on her emotions, her voice cracking as she spoke

“he begged me to forgive you, to forgive you all…because the world needed mercy” she turned to look back at him.

He felt his disposition descend into regret, she **had** given him mercy. She **had** let him walk away after his spectacle in front of her men. Yes, he was imprisoned, but he had his life. Unlike himself, Varys had been warned that shed burn him alive if he ever betrayed her, she had held true to her promise.

He on the other hand, had not been a very reliable hand. She should have never listened to him, he was her ultimate downfall. He was the reason she had gone mad. He advised her to not immediately attack Kingslanding during the height of her power. It only resulted in the loss of many powerful allies and the death of Lady Oleanna, who truly never trusted him...and rightfully so.

He had advised to go capture a dreadful creature to show his pompous sister, who used that knowledge against them. This resulted in nothing more than the near death of the group that included Jon, if it wasn’t for him..not even Jorah, everyone would be dead, ultimately she sacrificed her Viserion.

He knew it since the night he saw Jon and Daenerys, that a marriage would be possible. It would not have been a forced marriage, and it would have worked, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he betrayed her even further by opening his mouth to Varys, and blaming her sudden state to madness.

He blamed Daenerys for the death of his brother, but once again he had blinded himself for his own selfish needs. Jaime would have been alive, if he never had let him go.

If he hadn’t split the group, maybe Missandei and her Rhaegal would have still been alive. Then Daenerys would not have been so distraught after finding out about Sansa, Vary’s, and his treason, as Jon would have been able to comfort her during her biggest time of need.

In the end, his resentment, jealousy, and vile nature had caused the lives of many people. People that would have, could have saved the lives of thousands.

“The world cannot have mercy with men like me” he realized this would probably crush her.

She like him had let emotions get the best of her, destroying everything in her path. Jon on the other hand, did not want the responsibility, and the world would eventually destroy him. They were a balance to each other, each burning out without the other, _a dragon cannot be alone, a dragon does not do well in captivity_ but he was the weight that tipped their scales.

“I cannot let you go free, I do not trust you…” her voice heavy with confliction.

“…and yet you cannot take my life” Not because she didn’t want to, but because deep in her heart, she wanted to do right by Jon. He needed to do right himself, he needed to do what it took to help bring order to the destruction he had caused, but how?

he fiddled with his hat again, the bells clinking and clanking. Her eyes grew narrow, like a cat ready to pounce. 

“your nothing but a fool” she whispered

He agreed, putting the hat back on.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we begin reconciliation, but it will not be easy. I mean seriously who can forgive your murderer that easily.


	31. Daenerys IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, but this will bring what is currently at stake.

She watched as her massive fleet made its way to port. The bright red dragon flapping against the wind on their masts. She knew Torgo Nudho would want to drive his spear into Jon, once he figured out he was there. She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples in frustration.

“Alaine, can you get me something to drink?”

“Yes, Your grace”

Daenerys walked around her terrace, the wind was cooler that day. She closed her eyes, letting the rays from the sun caress her face. _he’s going to hate me..._. Alaine came back with a flute of the tart wine from her persimmon tree and handed it to her. She pressed her lips on the silver rim and swallowed its contents whole. It did not taste as tart as she’d thought it would.

“How is he?” She turned to look at the girl still savoring the drink

“Umm, he’s doing good” she said uncertainly

“I hear you’ve been sneaking him food from the kitchens” a hint of alcohol still lingering on her lips. The girl’s eyes squinted, and her mouth tightened in guilt.

“I’m sorry” she breathed out

Daenerys produced a half smile. Walking over to a persimmon tree and plucking one of the tomato shaped fruits off. She bit into one. The sweet melon and cinnamon flavors melting in her mouth.

“It’s just...Lord Naharis has made him clean the chamber pots” the words just falling out of the girl’s mouth

“That is part of his sentence” she said in a matter of fact, while she took another bite from her fruit. She knew Daario disliked everything about Jon and despised the idea that she allowed his sentence to be served under her roof.

She thought about his verdict, it was a simple one for now, clean the chamber pots. It’s not like he could have been given the option to serve it at the pits, he would have quickly made his way out, and come right back to her.

“But he’s the only one that doesn't get anything to eat or drink during the heat of the sun”

“is that so?” as much as she wanted to have him pay for his betrayal, starvation was more torture than punishment.

“Yes, my grace...Lord Naharis has the guards throw his food on the floor” She had not assumed Daario would be so childish after their last altercation in the lower gardens. She cleaned her hands from the persimmons sticky juice.

“And how did you come to know this?” She knew Alaine would wander the pyramid quite often than not, taking Joreah on walks while she attended to the politics in Essos.

“I heard the talk from the guards when I go make sure the urine is collected for the leather workers” Alaine shifted in her spot, she wasn't nervous but unaccustomed to Daenerys’s more commanding demeanor.

"and he’s always so helpful with the older men when they are too weak to carry the vat of the horrid liquid" the girl mussed, she could tell she had innocently fallen for his charm.

“he is a prisoner, he and they, do not require special treatment as it’s their job" she raised her eyebrow at Alaine, she couldn't be weak, she couldn't show any more mercy than what she already had given him, lest people began to talk.

"understood" Alaine bowed her head

“Tell the guards to take only my orders when it comes to Lord..Aegon” She didn’t want to call him by his other name. Every time she said it, her throat closed up on her. Since she had never had this name roll off her lips, or called it out in passion, it was just a name, a title of sorts and easier to say.

Alaine nodded her head, but still looking down at her feet in guilt as she began to walk away. Daenerys picked another persimmon, and pensively held it in her palm, feeling the weight of it as she stared out into the horizon.

"Alaine?" she called out, her voice as flat as she could get it

"yes, your grace?" the girl meekly turned around

“Take this to him during his next meal” she tossed the persimmon to Alaine, her face unfaltering. The girl on the other hand, smiled and bowed her head again as she made her leave. She looked down at her black britches, they were of the softest leather available in Meereen. She tried brushing Alaine's informative comment out of her head, as she made her way back inside her chambers.

“Come here love” she picked up her tiny babe, he had grown a bit heavier and could now hold his head up. His cheeks where beginning to plump and develop a light blush. She pressed her lips against his tiny nose as his little hand searched his own face.

She made her way down the many steps of the Great Pyramid, all along being greeted by many smiling faces and compliments of the babes beauty “Rūs gevie” they would chant. Her gown draped behind her, lifting in tiny waves with each step. It was a deep red, almost mimicking those the red priestess wore.

* * *

 

She watched as her Master of War made his way back into the main entrance of the Pyramid _he’s going to be so angry with me_

“Torgo Nudho” she greeted him, a large broad smile crept up on her face.

“Your Grace!” His face grinned back, a very unusual occurrence if not for the child she held in her arms.

“He look like mother” he called out as he neared her. He bowed his head, but Daenerys took another step forward and embraced her commander, her friend,

“Black hair” he touched the boys curls, moving them carefully with the back of his fingers.

“We should take a walk, catch up on everything” She smiled at him, a smile he knew too well.

“Your grace, you walk with Missandie when you be thinking too much”

She took a couple steps forward and stopped. This was the first time he had mentioned her name out loud again.

“I know”

Together they took a stroll around the many gardens, catching up on the intricacies of sailing a herd of cattle across the sea. She made sure the necessary talk of political affairs came first.

“It was quite a venture I gather, I can see why those idiots in gold cloaks couldn’t manage it” her smile and light laugh caused a similar one to appear on Torgo Nudhos face.

“Sealord very happy with his fancy aurochs” he changed the subject, she could sense he didn’t like to recall those days in Kingslanding.

“Were you able to distract them enough to gain knowledge on the stone river?”

“Yes, many stonemasons come to help..they want to see Mysha, Goddess who birth child… like dragon”

Here it was, the moment she was looking for. They had neared the orchard of olive trees. She stood underneath one of the larger trees, the branches holding small stalks that held leaves on opposite sides.

“Did you know the color of the leaf is whitish on the underside to protect it from cold in winter and the heat in summer?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, as she tugged on one of the stalks and handed it to him.

“See?”

He grabbed the stalk and used his fingers to rub the shiny green leaves turning to see their pale undersides.

“Daor jorrāelagon naejot mīsagon hen sōnar kesīr”

She took a deep breath, he told her there was no need for protection for winter here. Her eyes closing for a brief second as she put her words together.

“Ionos Sōnaro...” _Jon Snow_ she still couldnt bring to say his name in the common tongue.

He dropped his head, it bobbed a little. She could see the hurt in his face.

“I kill him if he come...you and child only ones I got”

She handed Joreah to Torgo Nudho, the quiet child bobbing his own head against the man’s chest. He held him awkwardly, showing he had never held anything as small and delicate as Joreah.

“Torgo Nudho...he is here”

His deep brown eyes shot up to hers, she could see everything inside him keeping himself from moving quickly to find the man. She was thankful Joreah yawned away peacefully in his arms.

“How?!”

“Salladhor Saan, transported the four of them on his Galley the Valyrian”

“Customs officers, they trained to inspect every ship even known ones”

“Ser Davos made barrels to hide themselves in...well except for the big one...you know the wild one?”

“I think giantsbane”

“He just took off his furs and acted like a consort” she rolled her eyes, but he wasn’t amused. She could see his mind trying to wrap around how such a danger could sneak in.

“You said four, who left?”

“My traitorous hand” she huffed, turning to see the giant pyramid in front of her.

“Where Naharis?! Why he not kill them?!” His voice salted in anger

“I did not let him” she took a deep breath, she could see him judging her from the side of her eyes. He moved closer to her and stood facing the same direction.

“Where Snow?”

“With Daario” she turned to look at Torgo Nudho, he still held her son who now slept quietly in his arms”

“I need you to watch my prisoner, have him work on building the stone river, have him paint the alleys, anything...just..”

“why not have Naharis” he huffed in annoyance

“I tried it, it’s more of a headache to deal with” she muttered back

“Naharis jealous of assassin” his voice had a slight hint of entertainment

She nodded her head and placed her had on his arm.

“He came to take Daarios life, he says he thought he was using our house name...he didn’t even know I was alive”

“What if he falls on my spear on my watch?”

She laughed and held Joreah again. The mans body now softening a little, but his typical posture still strong.

“He’s his father...”

“Hmm” he grunted again

“I do for you...if he fall on spear...I will not help him” his voice was tinged with irritation.

“Thank you” she lightly tipped her head to his upper arm, acknowledging how difficult this was for him and grateful he agreed.

 

* * *

 

“Dany”

“Daenerys” she corrected

She stood watching Torgo Nudho give Jon instruction in the lower Bailey, from afar. In her hand she held a goblet of fresh goats milk, which she savored in between every bite of fresh apricots from their orchards.

“Why did you give him more liberty?”

She turned to look at Naharis. _There was no freedom for the man he spoke of, he would be doing grueling work in the hot sun._ She said nothing and turned back to look at the men in her view. Jon wore a sun bleached tunic and thin britches that accentuated his muscular legs.

“Can you bring me my silver?” Her face unfaltering.

He nodded and left her to later return with her shiny grey mare with silver hair. He on the other hand rode on a black stallion, with a flowing mane.

“Where are we going?” He asked enquiringly

“ **I** am going to see our fields” she had asked for the burnt orchards to be removed and replaced with a grove of almond trees.

“I’ll be joining you” he stated as a matter of fact

She nodded her head in agreement and rode with him near the work camps. She knew he had done much for her and couldn’t be ungrateful for his services. Its not like he had willingly accepted her heart to beat for another.

In a large open field, men labored in the hot sun, ploughing the hard dirt to so new seeds could be sown. She searched for the older man who she knew had accompanied Jon, quickly finding him from the distance.

“Daario?” She turned to him.

“Can you go remind the men that we will need enough space for a trench to be built for water to run into our groves?” She needed some time alone without him.

“Anything for you my grace” he quickly answered and took off into the direction of the main field hands. She sighed in relief and trotted her horse towards the older man’s direction.

“Ser Davos” she called out to the gray haired man. His sweat stained face stained with red soil. He had been wiping his brow with his dirtied hands, after cleaning them on his equally dirtied tunic.

“Your grace!” His face showed tired but grateful to see her. She nodded her head in response.

“I need to ask you about...” there it was again, the one name she couldn’t say, she had mastered every language she had come across and never seemed to stammer as she did this one simple name.

“Jon?” He tilted his head as he looked up to her

“Mm..yes him” she sat up straight on her silver, an unconscious effort to look confident. She wore a long cotton fabric around her torso, it was hooked by the ends through a silver dragon ring on her shoulder. Inside a tiny squeak could be heard coming from a bulge in the fabric. She rubbed at the area in a circular motion, revealing the shape of an infant.

“he said you thought you’d never have a child” he smiled again, as his eyes twinkled in happiness.

“Interesting to know you two talked about my fertility” she raised her eyebrow in annoyance

“He was torn...he never wanted to father a child due to his bastard name, and yet with you...” he stopped, and began using the tool again, as he was diving into personal matters that shouldn’t be discussed between themselves.

“What is it you needed to ask me my grace?” The older man grunted as he used the large rusted hoe, and changing the topic. She could see his stubby cloth wrapped hands as he gripped at the wooden handle on the tool.

“You where there when...he was brought back?”

“Aye” he responded putting the hoe near his chest and leaning his chin against the tip of the handle.

“And it was a red priestess from R’lllohr?” Tyrion had confirmed, but she no longer trusted himenough to believe anything that slithered out of his mouth.

 “Aye” he wiped his forehead again with his dirtied hands

“Melisandre?” It was the only red priestess that was common between the both of them, but she was long gone and could not ask her anything anymore.

“I curse that wretched woman’s name” he spit at the ground

“You said he took a knife in the heart for his people? Which ones?” There was so much she had never asked Jon, all those nights together running her hands over his chest, and it had never occurred to her to ask more than what she was given.

“The Mutinous act was done when he was the Lord commander of the nights watch ... betrayed by his brothers for letting the wildlings cross the wall... His life for a thousand more.” His voice sounded like he was telling one of those stories you told children, but this one was real.

She thought about how Westeros never considered what was North of the wall part of their kingdom, and yet there where people who lived there from what she had gathered.

“He was the shield to guard the realms of men” the old man finalized.

“Thank you for the brief insight on his death Ser Davos”

“Now tell me, how is it you came to follow him?” Once again there was so much, she never learned.

“The same reason you came to love him” he gave her a forlorn smile and began to push the hoe back into the dirt. His tired grunts and slow movements showing his age.

“Davos...” she called again, but he only responded with a look up at her as he continued ploughing. As she was about to ask him why he still followed a traitor she was quickly interrupted as Daario made his way back on his horse.

“You grace, the men have already taken your request into action”

“Good”

“Daario have your men accompany this man to work my terrace instead” she motioned to Naharis whom she spoke about.

“You trust him there?”

“Unless he wants his right hand to match his left, I doubt he’ll be much of a liability” she turned to look at Davos who acted like he was not paying attention.

She turned her silver and began her journey back to the pyramid.

 

* * *

 

“So has anyone been in the ships since then?”

“No, Your grace”

“Very well, I need them inspected and have all their belongings brought to me”

She waved off one of her guards. When the hall was empty of everyone but her unsullied and Alaine, she turned to the girl.

“How has he been doing?”

“He’s much better now your grace” Alaine smiled at her. She had been bringing fruits from Daenerys’s terrace for a couple days now, and the guards had stopped throwing his food on the floor, much to Daarios dislike.

Daenerys got up from her bench and walked down the slick stone steps. The drip of water landing in the pool, louder than the soft pats from her slippers. The dark-haired girl watching, as she made her descent to the lower level of the great hall.

“I always wondered how you could have forgiven me” she spoke to the girl. Her words louder with the echo in the room. She now looked up at Alaine, the once fearful girl comfortable around her.

“It was not easy” her voice softer than before.

“Tell me how”

“I’m sorry your grace...I do not understand” the girls face showed confusion

“Tell me how you could forgive someone for such a crime” her heart yearned to forgive Jon, but she wanted to hate him just as much.

“The lord of light your grace...he showed me the way to forgiveness” she walked down the steps to Daenerys and grabbed her hand.

“If you would have never conquered Slavers Bay, you would have never gone to Westeros and met his Graciousness”

“And fight his war against the dead, to die in his hands after I did the same to the living” she sighed, even though it was necessary to destroy the Night King, she felt defeated with the ultimate outcome

“Your Grace...the dead only came after those who helped bring the life of the prince who was promised, a prince to bring chaos into this world, a child born from the blood of a betrayer” she reminded her that she was here for her with a tight squeeze to her hands, but Daenerys only pulled away.

Daenerys sat down at the edge of the pool of water, and saw her reflection. She saw a person who had turned against her people, and no one but Jon was able to stop her. She could see she was tired, and the last couple of nights Joreah had kept her up through the night. It sounded a lot like Joreah. She pondered her own visions, though right in many ways, had been misinterpreted as well.

Had the gods cursed her to be the mother of a child who would bring destruction? She thought about the death or Rhaego, her miscarriage, and her death. Was this why she had been cursed to not have children, for she would only bring forth the child of death, even Drogon brought death ans destruction. Tears began to form in her eyes, a small whimper escaping her lips as she tried to maintain composure. She must have been a pitiful sight for the girl began explaining herself further.

“your grace, the gods have chosen…and a fate has been chosen, the lord of light has chosen his warrior. He wields a great sword of light in his right hand, to protect the world of men through the dark, and in his left a shield to remind him that even with great power it’s to be used to protect the world”

“but you said a child will be born to bring destruction…I cannot...will not bring myself to take the life of my son, and I will destroy any who try to do so” she raised her voice

“your grace…I think Joreah is our Lords warrior and you’re the sword to protect him” Alaine maintained her composure through her sudden fear.

“I’m the sword?!... I’m the fucking sword? Is that what the gods think of me? as a damn weapon!?” she was breaking down, everything once again turning into a haze. Alaine could only watch as Daenerys entered a state of unrest.

“and how did you come to this conclusion?!” her voice faltering in instability

“because the child born to darkness has blonde hair, the three eyed raven has seen him...and you your grace, are as dangerous alone, as a double edged sword”

Daenerys froze, and quickly turned her gaze on the girl. Her face had gone pale, as her blood was now running cold through her body.

“where did you hear this name?” her voice shaken

“Kinvara your grace”


	32. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy the small intro to Arya’s POV

 

 

 

_Arya stood quizzing the faceless man near the altar._

_“If the gods are so perfect and we're not, why would they want to create all this? Why do they need us at all?”_

_“All you have to know is that the maiden made of light loved us, she loved the world so much that she gave us her only Son.” The faceless man preached_

_“For ten thousand years the Great Empire of the Dawn flourished in peace and plenty under the God-on-Earth, until at last he ascended to the stars to join his forebears.” his words continue on as Arya leaned in, listening. The more she listened to the man, the more she came to like these old gods, especially the god on earth._

_“Too bad he has gone to the stars, we all still need him”  
she muttered to herself._

_***_

_“So, how is it we pray to the same god?”_

_The man said nothing in response as he cleaned the body of a recently deceased woman._

_“and how are all the deities one god, but go against an other….?”  
she still received no response. Quietly she walked away_

 

* * *

 

To this day she wondered _how it was they worshiped the god of death? But she killed the night king who brought death? And Jon..he was brought back to life from death._ She couldn’t get the thought out of her mind.

 _Oh, well, they did briefly teach her about all of the different gods at house of black and white. And why not? Faith is a house with many rooms_ , but she couldn’t stop thinking of the story of the maiden made of light, _she had a son the god on earth, but what about everything else that wasn’t earth, what about the other gods? Did they have sons or daughters too?_

 _how could one god fight himself? And how could the god of death battle the god of life? if they where not but one?_ Her head hurt, but there was no room for doubting the choices that had been made, even though doubt lingered since she had drove her dagger into the Night King.

There was plenty of it. On every turn, in every event, everything. Death was useful. It kept faith a living thing. After all, you can't know the strength of your faith until it's been tested, you live or you die.

“What do we say?” she pulled her map out from her sleeve.

  

 

 

* * *

_  
Lightning and thunder lit the sky, the Galley sailing in ominous weather, the name Nymeria emblazoned on its hull. The seas where choppy, rains hitting her face like arrows falling from the sky, a storm brewing all around them. The grey wolf shaking with the storm that brewed._

_A faint glow of a torchlight from within her cabin, was the only thing swaying in the storm._

_**BANG**. A loud, deep rumble breaks into her consciousness. The ship begins to shake. Aryas eyes fly open. She looks around, listening, Nothing. _

_She walks outside and sees one of her crewmen_

_“Did you hear that?!” She yells out_

_“It's a thunderstorm!” He replies, his voice almost muted by thunder, even though he is yelling back_

_“We’ll be fine, the Nymeria can withstand it!!”_

_“Are you crazy? We'll get hit by lightning”_

_“No, we won’t”_

_Don't tempt the gods, Arya, she thought to herself_

_“Not today” she whispered  
_

* * *

 

Back on the deck of the ship it is too dark, as torches will not stay lit long with the rain, so she puts her map away. Arya, stands in the midst of a bracing storm of sharp rain, and walks to the rail, wind whipping her hair.

She laughs, exhilarated, as the drops strike down over her face. Throwing her arms wide, she dances away, laughing hysterically, slipping more than once on the rain-soaked deck, shouting in giddy adolescent triumph.

“More rain, god of storms! Let it rage!!”

She finishes, laughing as she falls against the railing. The deck lights suddenly, silence comes all at once; nothing but the quick patterns of rain hitting everything around her. A wave crashing against the hull, pushing the ship in all directions.

She slips to the front of the deck and stands up, watching in horror as a wave washes over the bow, carrying several sailors overboard. She pushes herself away from the railing and runs back to the main deck.

“Not today” she mustered to say under her breath.


	33. Jon XI

The unearthly singing coming from three women was full volume here. They were in short beautiful women, marked by a dreamlike languor, as they dunked fabrics in the stream, beating them against large rocks. Tormund was all but awkward, with a smile of someone lost in thought with deep burning eyes.

“sweet womenfolk, Name of Giantesbane!” He excitedly exclaimed, but the three laundresses did not answer, though they do smile at him as they continue to sing. Tormund tried again as he reaches into their laundry basket.

“Maybe I could help you with the, uh-“He realizes he is holding the young women's undergarments.

“Ahem.. I.. uh...” He shamefully dropped them back in the basket, quickly glancing at Jon, who is trying to mind his own business by washing his own soiled clothing.

“I don't believe I've, uh, heard that song before...” he changed the subject

Salladhor can be seen walking up to them, he is loud and cheerful even with the lack of his usual flamboyant attire.

“are you planning on introducing us, Tormund?” he points to himself and Jon, But the redheaded man’s eyes were glued on the women. He hissed out of the corner of his mouth

“Don't know their names. I seen 'em first!”

  
Salladhor only laughs lightly at the ridiculousness in front of him.

“Ladies, you'll have to pardon my friend here; Tormund is dirt ignorant and not lectured in the Essosi culture”

“My name on the other hand is Salladhor Saan and you ladies are about the three loveliest hand maidens I’ve ever had the privilege to admire” not one of the women respond, as all still continue to sing, but one brings a handmade clay jug to Salladhor.

“Why, thank you my lady, that's very, uh...” He takes a swig of the clay jug.

“Mm, thoughtful I guess, uh, this is the preferred local uh...wine” He passes the jug to Jon as the woman runs her fingers through his hair. It was a sour wine, not anything like he’d ever tasted, honestly quite putrid in taste.

The other two women begin approaching to likewise tousle Tormund’s hair and Jon’s. The woman standing by him, caressed Jon face and by squeezing his cheeks, smushed his mouth into a pucker.

“Pleased to meet you, my lady” He somehow managed to say, as he pulled away from her grasp wiping away the spit that somehow escaped.

"Vesterozia dārys" one of the women yells to the one in front of him

"sīr skoros?" she looks on quizzically as she stands holding onto his shoulder 

"ziry sytilībagon naejot dāria. gaomagon daor renigon" with that the girl pulled away and stopped harassing Jon.

Their singing continued as they moved away, the streamed gurgling on as flies lazily buzzed in the distance.

“Gods!” Tormund yelled out as the women walked away

"She said the Westerosi King belongs to the queen. Your off limits" Salladhor cackled in amusement as he slapped his hand on Jon’s back. _She considered him hers? No she propbably juat warned other women to stay away from him thinking it was a form of punishment for him, but it was far from the truth._

"but im not a king!" yelled Tormund, quite irritated that Jon had once again managed to somehow ruin a quick lay for him.

"eh but you do not understand high Valyrian...how could you entice them with your lack of linguistics?"

The men bickered on about this hypothetical situation, as Jon continued to clean his extremities and the few clothing items he had. They were allowed to have one day under the watchful eyes of the royal guards to cleanse themselves and anything they had soiled throughout the days incarcerated. Most of the women and men seen walking around freely at the stream, where loyal servants, handmaidens and help from within the Pyramid.

Jon spotted Davos from afar as he was helping carry a basket full of sheets and clothing from within the royal suites. The old man excused himself, and quickly made his way to Jon. He stood a few feet away to not cause alarm with the guards.

“how are you holding up your grace?” he asked John with concern, looking at the healing gash on his cheekbone.

“I will say I have been better” he tried to jest with the older man, who nodded in understanding

“how… are they?” he asked hopeful, his hands scrubbing a dirty ball of britches on a stone slab.

“she’s a wonderful mother, your son grows stronger with every turn of the sun” Davos smiled, his eyes full of optimism

“aye, he’s like his mother” a forlorn smiled tainted his lips.

“He looks every bit like you do, well except for his eyes. Those are hers” he laughed

“How’s the idiot?”

“still trying, don’t think he’ll stop either. He comes and checks on her and the babe, brings her flowers, and delicacies of all kinds…he’s quite the seducer to be truthful, but she doesn’t seem flattered at all” Davos said without withholding any emotions. Jon just seemed to take in what he was told but did not say anything after.

“his nose seems to be healing if you’re wondering” Davos chuckled.

“not really” Jon answered calmly as he rung out his britches in the stream. Daario and he had swung at each other a few days prior. It was over Daario riling Jon with mention of Daenerys, and the yearning she used to have for his company.

Jon stood knee deep in clear water, only wearing his small clothes, which also needed to be cleaned. He turned to look at Davos, who understood the predicament and averted his eyes. It was meant as a shameful punishment for most prisoners, as the grounds did have bathhouses for everyone but the prisoners. Jon pulled off his undergarment and began to wash them too.

“here” said the older man, tossing him a small milky white bar he carried in a leather pouch. Jon caught it and inspected the soft bar. It smelled wonderful, lavender and honey seemed to surround him as he held it in his hands.

“soap from the royal apartment, she has us wash our hands before we enter”

“aye?” Jon raised an eyebrow in amusement

“for your son Jon” Davos shook his head as he chuckled

Jon quickly washed himself and his undergarment, quickly putting on a dry pair as he finished. He could hear the saddened sigh of some of the women around. Davos shook his head again.

“really?”

“happens every time” said Jon in annoyance, not bothering to look at those who had been staring, tossing the soap bar back to Davos.

“She’ll be out tomorrow to see the progress of the stone river” Davos let him know as he made his way back to the women he had been helping.

Jon just took note of it and walked quietly back to the guards so he could be escorted back to his cell.

* * *

                                                                                     

After seven days of working in the stone river, sleeping on a stone floor with mosquitoes biting every piece of his uncovered flesh, and the smell of urine lingering in the humid, stifled air, he found himself in what he could only describe as peaceful; cleansed without soiled clothing that smelled of musk, sweat, blood and soil.

  
He ran his callused hand through his hair, the slick oils had been washed away giving his waves the bounce they once had. He took a deep breath, the slight scent of lavender and honey still lingering on his hands.

The wonderful smell brought his memory back to the days he spent next to Daenerys. How he would somehow make sure he brushed up against Dany, to savor her sweet smell. It was this scent she always seemed to carry with her, this was a part of what made Dany, Dany.

  
He sat up and reached for his basket, inside were the small clothes that he had washed with the soap. He pulled them out and inhaled once more. He longed to see her up-close again. Lately, she had only made her presence known if the project needed an approval, but she never came close enough to bother looking at him.

He tried to think back on the day he swung at Daario. He had tried many times to ignore the crude comments, that came out of that man’s mouth. He did not care to know how she rode him, or how he would take her as his. He did not want to hear any of it, he surmised it was when Naharis had mentioned how he had missed the birth of his son and wondered when she’d be able to take him again like she when she used to yearn him.

He felt at his cheekbone, the swelling was no longer hot to the touch and the once searing sting was dull under the scab that formed from the injury. He looked at his knuckles, bruised and equally scabbed from the scuffle.

He remembered her face as both men stood before her, neither saying anything of what triggered their primal urge to tear at each other like rabid animals. Her eyes shot daggers at the both of them, looking them up and down, silently judging them like Lady Catelynn would when Robb and himself, had a brotherly tussle. Both bloodied and stammering about their childish behavior, neither willing to show weakness.

She had reprimanded Naharis, reminding him of his position that his and to not behave like the warrior who pissed in front of her so many years ago. It bothered him to know that she had a life with Naharis before, where she had made this man urge for her, to risk his life and piss in front of hundreds for her like a dog claiming his prize. Then he remembered, he was not a dog but a wolf, and a cub...his cub, had grown from her womb.

He smiled to himself, only to be shot down by one of her glances geared angrily at him. The smile quickly faded from his face. She glared at them once more, not saying one word to Jon as he was nothing worthy of her time. She turned away from both of them, but he managed to see her discreetly turning her head to catch one last glimpse of him, her face dusted with concern.

Soon his meal would come, to mark the ending of the day. He wondered if Dany knew that Alaine would bring him fruits from the royal kitchens. He prayed the child would not be stupid enough to go behind Dany’s back. Then he wondered if Dany did know, and if she chose these for him to one day poison him, equally betraying him after days of trust.

The door opened and Alaine greeted him with a bow. It was a watery soup with a blend of hot spices and others that had fragrant smells, ones he had never tasted or smelled before, grass that smelled of lemons, and a lot of fish bones with some hunks of meat that may or may not have been filleted using a hammer.

“Thank you” he bowed his head to the girl taking the tray in his hands, as the guards stood with their backs to the opening. Alaine pulled two purple round fruits.

“They were just picked for her Grace today” she handed them to him and began to walk away.

“Alaine?”

The girl quickly turned around at his call.

“if the Queen does not know, do not risk it, I do not deserve this anyway” he knew Alaine only came to his cell, as the other men complained about the same despicable meals he got, but no mention of fruits or sweet breads.

The girl smiled and her eyes shown bright in the dim light

“Of course, she knows my lord, she picks them for you” with that she made her way out, the guards closing the door behind her.

  
Maybe she was going to poison him. He took a bite of the sweet fruit, the nectar overwhelming his mouth, as little soft seeds exploded with more taste. He then took a spoonful of the hot soup.

“Nope if anything is going to kill me...it’s this shit” but he ate it anyway, as his body needed sustenance to continue on the stone work.

When he was done, he pushed the tray into the same corner of everyday. He gathered as much of the dry hay that lay scattered in the cell into a clump and crawled his body on it. He used his washed clothes as a form of head support, and began to drift asleep. The lavender scent once again making its presence known, lulling him into a peaceful slumber, the only warmth in the dank room.

* * *

 

He was the first to chance upon the stone river. The water it carried was a translucent, egg blue color, like a piece of the sky traveled though the grey stone. Seeping and snaking smoothly past all obstacles, it managed to hurdle through the orchards also. leaves twirling on its murmuring surface, little messengers from the olive trees where they had come from. The stream flowed over the smooth stone riverbed. It sounded like an airy, velvety whirl of a flock of tiny wings flapping in the wind.

The Pyramid stood silently in the background, the brooding presence of the sky piercing majesty. The golden statue covered its lofty peak, encircling them in wreaths of dazzling light. A distant thrumming sound emanated from a wall in the distance, a seeping waterfall glinting brightly as it fed the stone river, it was quit the sight.

His gaze returned to the swirling leaves. He could see how the water had gained its glassy clarity. The stone bed lacked the red soil color that plagued these lands, rinsing away every Impurity throughout its travel down the man-made stream, varnishing its surface with the glinting reflection of the light the golden statue produced. The watery grace of the river seemed magical to Jon at that moment, as he dipped his hand into the clear waters, cleaning the ripped blisters he had developed from the grueling work.

He could see a team of men working on closing the waterfall, moving chopped trees along its stone banks widening out where the extension would follow.... It was all just a trial for now. The work was diligent, but basic to this point. Still, under Torgo Nudho’s direction, the prisoners go at it like they've got something to prove. And rightly they did.

At the moment Jon had been stacking large stones for the new extension in the river, Naharis arrived showing immediate dissatisfaction with his work. The black stallion he rode up on, had legs dusted in the red soil, and the sweat soaked tunic shown he had been out here for a while.

“Make the stones flush” he barked out

“They are” he answered him in annoyance

“They are no such thing” he growled

Jon ran his hands over the stones, to him they were as smooth to the touch as longclaws flat edge, but says nothing to him in return.

“are you calling me a liar, prisoner?” He spat on the ground

“I do not think I said anything of the sort” Jon mocked

 “You are a despicable brute, a dog, and no better for following instruction” Naharis growled at him, the bridge of his nose still purpling underneath his eyes.

“I do what is ordered, from the Queen” he responded as fact, Torgo Nudho was the only one to direct him now, and for the most part he left him alone.

Naharis only rode away, letting Jon go back to his work, but visually irritated at him. After a few moments he notices a bit of commotion on the small road next to the stone river. He could see the silver mare making its way to where he was at the site, it shone as a fresh honed sword in the field of battle. He dusted his hands off and brushed his hair out of his face.

“your grace” he knelt in her presence

“Aegon” she looked down at him from her mare

“You need to come with me” she said dryly, turning her horse sharply into the direction of the pyramid.

He walked in silence between her guards, the horses had slowed down enough so he could keep up with their pace. He looked around, Naharis was not in their presence. He watched her from behind, the gentle sway of her body as the horse moved between her legs.

She casually talked to her men in that melodious language he had grown to love, whatever they were saying, resulted in light laughter between them. It must have been about her britches, as she had lifted the edge of her gown and pulled on the soft brushed leather that covered her legs. Her joyful smile and amused look lit up his heart, a sudden surge of joy showering him as he watched her.

She must have felt his burning gaze, as she turned to look at him. Her face sowed indifference, but her eyes betrayed it, unintentionally batting her eyelashes as if trying to brush away thoughts from her mind. She turned back to her men.

* * *

 

“What is the explanation of this?” her hand gestured to a trunk filled with his personal belongings.

She had changed from what she was wearing earlier. She had left him at the bottom entrance of the pyramid with her guards. Drogon somehow knew to wait for her down there, to rise her up to the top of the Pyramid _. He always knew_.

“well?”

He quickly stopped gaping at her, the light blue almost sheer gown she wore had distracted him from her question.

“what is what?” he blinked a couple times as she walked over to the trunk and pulled out the black Targeryan outfit he once wore.

“My clothing your grace” his voice answered her truthfully

“Your house colors are grey, and brown, and all those muted tones you northerners wear” she reminded him in annoyance

“Our house color is black, and red” he answered her, realizing he was about to instigate an argument

“and the white wolf?” she raised her eyebrow

“that’s just my personal arms your grace” it wasn’t the first time a personal arm hosted a different design than the House sigil.

Daenerys carefully laid his clothes across her lap. She dug through their pockets and produced the three headed dragon singlet.

“this was not mine, amuse me…. where did you find it?” her voice showed a tinge of wonder, rolling the ring between her fingers.

“it was Maester Aemons”

“Aemon Targeryan?...my great grandfathers brother?”

“aye”

“you still haven’t amused me” she reminded him

“He was at Castle black when I was a brother of the nights watch, he was… a good man” he just didn’t understand what he had been trying to teach him until it was too late.

“interesting that you never brought that up before” she put the ring back down and looked at Jon with inquiring eyes

“we had been very occupied your grace…” he didn’t mean it in any way than the actuality of things, though the way it came out made it sound more sinful than what he meant. She cleared her throat and averted her gaze. She stood up, still holding his things in her arms pacing the room deep in thought.

“your grace?” he interrupted, she beckoned him to continue with a simple nod

“is that all your men found?” he inquired in concern, looking around the enormous hall, the unsullied standing by the pillars like the stone itself.

“is this not all?” she persuaded the truth from him

“no” he hadn’t told her about the eggs he found, he never had the right moment to bring it up, he wasn’t even sure if it would have ever been a right time. He had never expected to find a greater reward after them, so he had pushed the importance of the eggs to the back of his mind.

“continue” she summoned him

“I would like to be escorted to The Betha, there is something you should see”

“and you think Ill just let you go to the ship?” she mocked his request

“I have nowhere to go and nothing to hide, I don’t even know where my men are…” they were probably headed back to Westeros if they hadn’t taken residency in Essos yet.

“My men will escort you to the Betha tomorrow, I will meet you there with Drogon” it was not a veiled threat, if he tried anything, she would burn him alive, he knew it.

“thank you” a sudden weight had been lifted from within him, she had agreed to let him go without much further thought, no disagreement, no tears, just as his Queen.

“you may go” she waved him off in a dispassionate manner, and yet she clutched at his belongings instead of discarding them like she did him. He turned away and headed down the large hallway, it was dead silent, the only thing making this moment less surreal, was the drip drop of water landing at the pool at the bottom of the steps.

* * *

They approached the ramp together, the large Galley docked proudly infront of them. It was a lonely reminder of the time spent on it with her. He gave Daenerys a quick glance as they made their way back to the ship, his stomach hurt with longing, an unquenchable need to hold her in his arms once again. She was looking straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence any further than needed. He led her and a few of her guards down the main deck, they where on high alert with him moving so freely around.

As he approached the captains cabin he turned once again to her, pushing the door open as he did. There was no reaction on her part, except for saying something in high Valyrian to her men. They pushed past him and made sure the cabin was clear. She shot him a look and walked past him once her men returned.

“So what did my men miss when they where here?” Her voice calm, but not amused.

He could tell she did not really want to be there. So he just smiled at her, and made his way to the bed in the middle of the room. He climbed onto the edge of the mattress, it sunk under his weight. Her face was priceless to him. Her usual frigid composure quickly becoming rattled, as he removed the comforter exposing the other half of the bed.

A sly smile crept on his face, he couldn’t resist antagonizing her further, making things seem like he was no better than Naharis.

“Close the door Dany” his voice huskier than usual, he prodded her more

“Excuse me?!” Her voice rattled in perplexity

“Dany...”

“That is enough lord Aegon! You have wasted enough of our..” She raised her voice and began to walk away angered at the whole situation. _Have I gone too far?No, she would forgive me once I show her what her men have missed._

“Stop!” He called out as he ripped the sheets off the mattress. As he did a deep gash was visible on the wool filled pad.

“Come here please” he called, but only two unsullied guards stepped back into the room. She quietly motioned for them to stand down, stepping forward near the bed. Her eyes made contact with his, she was questioning Jon through them. She subconsciously grazed her hand on the bed, quickly removing it like she had just been pricked by a sewing needle.

Daenerys uncomfortably cleared her throat, and averted her eyes from Jon once again, quickly turning to the opening he cradled between his legs.

Jon pushed his hand into the opening and spread it further, he tilted his head toward the bed, gesturing for her to look. She took a peak from where she stood, but he could tell she did not have a clear view. _Don’t make it easy on her. Make her come out of her shell and trust you again, what else do I have to lose that I haven’t already lost? Jon make things right with her._

He said nothing to her as he raised his eyebrows in amusement, egging her to climb onto the mattress with him.

“Take whatever it is out of there and show me” she commanded

“It’s not going to hurt you Dany” he pushed again, she raised her eyebrow and carefully placed her knee onto the bed. She stretched forward just a little further, not fully on the bed but close enough to see what looked like stones nestled inside of the wool.

“Is this...Jon...are these?” She began to stutter, quickly losing her composure she placed her other knee onto the mattress and leaned forward.

She moved her hand into the opening, realizing until it was too late, that her arm and hand where now pressed against his own. She looked up, they where the closest they had been since that unfaithful day one month to a year ago.

He could smell her scent, warm lavender and honey, he could feel the heat from her body radiating onto his. Her eyes burning into his soul, he was so close to her, he could begin to hear his own heart beating against his chest, she turned away again. He wanted to scream, to dig his hands into the sky and tear at the fabric of the universe, _why, why did he have to be so damn Honorable to ruin everything for the sake of a couple ungrateful beings._

“Jon?” She whispered to him without looking at him

“Hmmm?” He could barely speak, everything inside him close to falling apart

“Where did you find these?” She looked back up at him, her lips slightly parted

“Valyria...” his voice back to its thick northern accent, they where both lost in each other’s stares, time slowing down as their arms somehow where still intertwined.

“Your grace?!” Naharis called out from the doorway. Her eyes quickly dashed away and pulled her arm out from the opening. _Seven god damned hells! Fuck fuck fuck he shot him a look that the sellsword was more than glad to receive._

“I heard you might be here” he took a step into the cabin, their cabin, their sanctuary.

“Yes Daario, I am here, but am now leaving” she replied as she got off the mattress and straightened her flowing tunic.

“Guards please escort Lord Aegon to one of the dormitories located on the sixteenth floor...preferably one near your Commander” she motioned to her guards

“Lord Aegon...we will talk about these later tonight, so bring them with you”

“You must not be serious My Grace” Naharis exclaimed

“I most certainly am Master Naharis” with that she made her leave. leaving both men to ponder the many ways to rid themselves of each other.

* * *


	34. Tyrion XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update on Tyrion's whereabouts.

“Though they love people, they are enemies of our life, our gods and our crimes; hence she fled from them, as from a man who belongs to the Valyrian society, and with whom she would have to share a life counted criminal by Westerosi...”

“is that now the story?” Davos grumbled as the curtain closed and Tyrion somberly strolled to his direction

“It’s more true than the one at the citadel” this one at least has me telling it he thought

He flung himself onto a hay bale and pulled off his hat, letting the cool breeze blow on his dampened hair. He lay on there looking at the sky, his hand resting on his chest, plucking at the frills his tunic donned, enjoying the sounds of the birds singing in joy.

“at least she has not burned me alive yet” he turned to look at Davos who was busily oiling all the wooden furniture around the gardens. The wood was sleek with straight grain and a beautiful golden brown.

“teak?”

“I do believe so” the older man responded

“Sothoryos is now trading too?” he sat up and walked to inspect a lounge chair nearby, it was beautiful and smooth in texture, with a hint of silver starting to show where Davos had missed a spot while oiling it. He rubbed his index finger on it, spreading the leftover oils onto the silvered grain.

“So, I hear Aegon has finally made it out of his cell” he said out loud, but Davos did not reply.

He looked around where he stood, a fig tree was the jewel of this garden. The way it was planned, they would be drinking in the aromas of the late summer blooms, soothed by the waterfall between two ponds and sinking their teeth into the delicate skin of the purple fruits. It was no longer to be for Tyrion, who could only watch when released to entertain.

Davos looked up from his crouched position by a small table. His face shown apprehension as he watched him admire the blooming life within the garden.

“she seems to like her gardens” he stated to the small man

“you are right about that, I believe it was her inability to give life in the way she wanted to before that made her want to grow life in another beautiful way” Davos kept cleaning the garden, stopping to look back at the men beginning to return to the wooden box where Tyrion would now entertain.

“seems you tell the world a better story than the broken king”

Tyrion made his way back to his riser, slowly putting on his hat as he turned to look at Davos

“she always told Ser Jorah that she dreamt of a lemon tree like the one she had in Braavos growing up” he knew how much Daario had been trying to woo Daenerys with lavish gifts, and delicacies from the markets. _Hopefully this old man can grasp what I’m telling him_. He went back to telling his story to the visiting nobles, painting their Queen in such a light where she looked like a Martyr for her people.

From afar he could see Alaine, as he came to know her, strolling he grounds with the small bundle in her arms. He knew he would now be immediately escorted back to his cell, for he was never trusted enough to be anywhere near the child. Sure enough, two armed guards inconspicuously made their way to him. He wondered when Jon had last seen the child, as he himself never saw Jon, knowing well enough he had been moved from his cell to somewhere closer the Daenarys from the talk of servants.

* * *

 

"Who deign to lecture you?”

“Daario, the council has its uses” a woman's voice could be heard

“What uses? All they will do is talk. Talk. ...It should only be me, and you, and the Kingdom”

“Don't even think that, Daario. There is always a need for council....”

“Dragons Bay has changed. It takes an Emperor to rule an empire”

“Of course, one day…but in the mantime leave the people there....”

“Illusions?”

“...voice” the voice said tiredly

“Your war against the Westerosi, you said yourself it achieved nothing. But people here still love you”

“People always love the thought of victories...But why? They don't see the battles? What do they care about my losses in Westeros?”

“They care about the greatness of this Kingdom”

“Greatness of Meereen? But what is that?” a sarcastic laugh making its presence known

“It's an idea, greatness. Greatness is a vision” he egged on, trying to find a way to convince her

“Exactly, a vision. I tried to give the people a vision... and they hated me for it”

“They will soon forget the treachery and death of a few dry old men. You will give them the greatest vision of their lives”

“I have been living in a prison of fear since that day. To be unable to mourn your own death for fear of your child. To live in terror every moment of every day, because your son is heir to the throne. Oh, I have wept, and I no longer seek to conquer…”

“you’ve always been a conqueror Daenerys”

“Daario, my son is very tired. Leave the list with me. I will see myself who can help form a proper council”

“My Grace, as always your lightest touch commands obedience” his voice softened

He heard the closing of a couple doors as the guards caught on that the conversation could be heard by passerby’s. 

He couldn’t harshly judge Daario, for he had maintained Meereen a thriving city until Daenerys’s return, unlike himself he kept his word. His views of expansion though, where not as well received, for the wounds that Daenerys had incurred at his hands in those lands where still too fresh. Tyrion rapped his fingers on his britches, the fabric was thin and colorful, suitable for a royal fool. 

“No more story” a gruff voice called out.

Tyrion looked up and around his small quarters. It had a small bed roll with a thick itchy wool cover and a table barley big enough to hold a flagon of water on it. Nothing else, not even a window. A punishment to think of his deeds, to not rest and dream for freedom and better days, and no drink to escape reality.

“And what shall I do then? Dance? Sing? Tell people more truths that they will take as comedy?” He rolled his eyes, _people who go mad frequently speak more truth, and a deeper truth than when sane._ It was his turn to be found as mad.

“You will play” from the shadows, a guard walked up to Tyrion and handed him a child's harp. He could barely move it, as for him it was as it would be for a full sized man.

“I do not know how to play a harp” he raised his eyebrow at him

“Learn” The man once again disappeared into the shadows.

There was no light from where his chambers stood. He figured it must be near the servants quarters, as there was always activity outside, but not enough light for people to happily linger around.

He strummed at the cord, a nazzle, buzzing sound echoed as the cords where plucked. It was to say the least, a ghastly sound. Tyrion pushed away, and tried to think of any experience he might of ever had with a stringed instrument, the only one ever coming to mind was the bowstring. 

He pulled one cord from the harp tight, and plucked it. The sound reminiscing the same one that fatally thrust an arrow into his fathers chest. He laughed, the sudden surge of nostalgia rising inside of him. He could hear his fathers words spoken to him, 

 _"the greatest fools are oftentimes more clever than the men who laugh at them"_ but Daenerys never laughed, she didn't find him amusing in the least bit. _"You always knew how to put on a mumers act"_ she had once told him recently as they crossed paths during a feast.

He pushed the harp away and instead went to crawl into his bed roll. He slept in his clothes, as he found only wearing his small clothes helped exacerbate the feel of the itchy wool on his skin. He tossed and turned, and tossed and turned again. The usually cool room was hot under the covers, so he kicked them off, only to then feel cold and cover himself back up. He found he couldn't sleep, and made his way back to the harp.

He plucked away again, the sound screeching and thrumming with every pluck and stroke of the cords. He heard a knock on his door and the metal bar that held it closed lifting up. 

A faint light flickering on the other side of the door illuminated the shadow walking towards him. Its very confident strut revealed that it was Daario even before he made it close enough to distinguish his features.

"Tyrion..."

"Naharis..."

"It seems you cannot sleep" he chuckled knowing full well his confines where starting to drive him mad.

"It seems you are in the same predicament..."

"it appears, though mine is more of a problem of the loins" the sellsword sighed

"solvable I must say, just like I could be provided finer cloth to sleep on"

"Im sure you will not be provided anything other than what you have" he laughed back reminding him that was all he was allowed in comfort

"well at least you have choices" he snorted at Naharis

"it appears its not as easy as it seems...I still crave her...and there is nothing anyone can provide me that can relieve this tension"

Tyrion thought long about what he was going to say, but the need for a decent sleep was starting to gnaw at his mind. He needed something other than the itchy wool, or the same outfit he slept and woke with, as they had now become malodorous with wear. He would play his usual manipulative tactic, if only for a glimmer of the memories of comfort.

"if you can get me a sheet that will not bite like a thousand fleas upon my body...I can tell you where you can release your yearning"

Daario scoffed at the idea, but raised his eyebrow as Tyrion never gambled empty handed. 

"what have you in mind? as common whores are of no pleasure to me"

"go to the brothel on the east side of the city, the one with a small garden owned by Salladhor"

"interestingly enough we have him as a prisoner" Naharis reminded him

"aye, even better to bring his most prized possession here to see him here then"

* * *

The days had formed to nights and the nights to days, everything blending as one smooth stroke of a cord. Something he had still not began to master at all. He screamed, his fingers now bloody from the constant plucking of the cords.

"guards!" he yelled

"guards...you dam, cockles pricks!" _or did they have the stem and not the roots?_ he didn't care.

Finally one dared to come to him, he stood by the door watching as he waved his bloodied hands in frustration. 

"I cannot learn here, I cannot even begin to hear other sounds than my laborious breathing and the horrific tune I pluck away at with the fucking harp...please ask her grace if I can practice near the garden"

The guard turned away without a response, leaving Tyrion to lick at his bloodied fingertips. He kicked the harp out in anger, watching it fall and tip over the flagon on his table. The result being it landing on his bed, soaking the soft sheets Daario had gifted him.

"fuck me" he muttered and pulled of the sheets to air them out on his table, little dabs of blood staining the fabric with his touch.

He sat in a corner the rest of the day pondering his life situation. Maybe his father should have tossed him into the sea, maybe just maybe Tywin was right and he was a dreadful creature.

The day passed without the knowledge of time until the iron bar lifted on the other side of the door. The rusted metal singing a more harmonious melody than the one his stubby fingers could produce. The door swung open and a guard came in to lift the Harp from its fallen position.

"you want garden...then walk"

with that he stood from his corner and followed the guards to the gardens. The dim light producing shadows across the servants quarters, as they moved throughout the different corridors to lead him out to the gardens. He was thankful it was a gradual introduction back to light, so his eyes had enough time to adjust to the bright sunlight. He sat on a small stool, marveling the structure that had been erected throughout the pyramids grounds. The smooth flowing stone river gurgling nearby, the birds singing, and the gentle breeze caressing his face.

He closed his eyes listening to the trill of the small winged creatures, so different than the cawing of the ravens back in Kingslanding. It was a sweetly high tune, a chorus as playful as the birds themselves. He could imagine their music to be colors, painting the skies in the same way rainbows did after the rain. He strummed the harp one more time, letting his mind wander for a moment.

"there are things books cannot teach" the ruff Northern voice called out to him, he immediately knew who it was without opening his eyes.

"Im glad to know your still alive" he smiled, his eyes still closed as he tried to strum away.

"Im surprised we both are" he answered him sincerely

Tyrion opened his eyes and turned to look at Jon, he was wearing clean clothes, and his hair was held back by two strips of hair from either side of his face. The clothes he wore, where of a higher quality, but not enough where they still showed his low status here in Dragons Bay. 

"Just run your fingers over the strings, its very forgiving" he motioned

"I have been...thank you very much" he said in annoyance

"no...you have been plucking and strumming at it" he knelt down next to him and ran his callused fingers across the cords. The sweet distinctive ring accentuated the sounds of the birds, and the the gurgle of the stream. Jon only smiled and ran his fingers across a couple more times, and adjusting the strings as he did, showing the smaller man how to do it. He stood up at patted him on the shoulder.

"treat it like a woman's body"

"I think we both know we are not the type of men to treat one well" he reminded Jon, but his once friend only turned to him with a forlorn smile

"im sure your fingers can still feel the soft burn from her skin" he was painfully reminded of his love, one that he was also at fault for her death.

 


	35. Arya II

                                                                                       

Halfway down, Arya hits water. She dives, searching for her deckhands. The galleys torches flicker, the passage falls dark an instant before the bright light of thunder flashes on the water outside, which nearly illuminates the entire sea, and inside the Galley.

 Arya dives, trying to swim against the inside flowing current, astonished to find a  
horse swimming toward her. She tries to swim further, but the enormous force of rushing water and air is too great. She scrambles backward, groping toward the stairwell. Arya bursts onto the deck, coughing and gagging for air.

“HELP!! SOMEBODY HELP!!” she called out as she sees the movement of horses running. She scrambles toward them, the ship groaning as it starts to go sideways. She’s able to grab the reigns of a white horse scrambling to stay on its feet. Animals and humans are visible on the far side of the deck, backlit by lightning. Arya hears the clatter of hoofs pounding and the scared braying of the animals.

In the distance, Sailors shout orders in panicked voices. Arya comes onto the upper deck, where she sees three men arguing with the captain, who has climbed into the stern of one of the lifeboats that barely hangs off the side of the ship. Arya runs to the Captain

“please help save my mare!” it was the beautiful white horse that she rode out of the ruins so long ago

“Don't scare. Okay? Wait stay here” she patted the hysterical animal

“You have to help her, please! You have to help her”

“We don't have time.” He yelled out to her

The captain jumps fully onto the lifeboat

“We helped as many as we could we must go! You have to let go now” his impatience growing

“No wait! I don’t think she can swim” she can see the animal not able to put pressure on one of its hooves

“This is your last chance girl just let her go!” at this he waved to the men to detach the lifeboat

“No please!”

She guides the mare to the side, where a section of the ship's railing has been removed to give access to their lifeboat, but the animal in her craze pushes her over the edge, and Arya falls onto the rim of an even smaller lifeboat that has been battered with the passage of time, barely hanging on with a stretched tarp taut across its wooden bow. See grabs at the rope holding the tarp to the bow, trying not to slip off. She could hear the sailors shouting at each other, and at the captain, who stands at the stern of the nearby boat.

“Hey! You! What are you doing?! You need to come here!”

“Loosen the lines! Bring it down!” they yell at her in unison

“untie it! Untie it!” so she pulls as hard as she can on the knot holding the lifeboat onto the Nymeria. She feels it loosen and begin to descend into the thrashing water below her as she still hangs onto the rope.

The sailors look towards the upper deck, Arya following their looks watches in horror as the mare launches itself over the side of the ship, barreling through the air toward the safety of her raft. Arya could only hold onto the rope as tight as she could as the boat starts to slam against the Nymeria with the thrashing of the water. The mare plunging through the air, missing the tarp, and landing on the exposed bench with a nauseating thud, shattering the one near the rear. The force only sent the lifeboat plummeting to the water below, nearly washing Arya away from the small vessel.

She clung to the back of the tarp, fingers entwined on the rope, the horse nestled on the floor before her. As the boat slid down the side of the growing swell, Arya tried to slide herself to the front of the tarp. The Nymerias hull rising quickly behind her from the waves pushing it up. As Arya steadied herself, a swell lifted the lifeboat, crashing it onto the deck of the Nymeria. It tipped sideways back into the sea, almost rolling over completely and lifting the lifeboat up and on its deck. The galley instantly rights itself back up swaying as its bow keeps dipping below the water. Aryas boat is thrown off again, plunging into the roiling water as an enormous wave rolls toward her. She fills her lungs with air, and dives under, pulling away from the assault of the raging storm.

It was dead silence as Arya was suspended below the surface, arms wide, groping for focus and stability. Lightning casted a blazing white veil over the surface of the water above her, backlighting fish, humans and horses. The waves frozen in time like the frozen ice in Winterfell, their motionless texture pocked away with raindrops pelleting its surface.

The sky continued to explode in white flashes, surreal as the long night. A horse swims past her, it was incredibly graceful despite its struggle. Arya swam toward the lifeboat, pulling closer using the rope freezing in horror as a shark punches past her and up toward the struggling horse near the surface. Arya dives under, quickly stroking the water. The Nymeria still visible a couple yards beyond. Its usual lit deck from torches, dipping below the surface, casted in an eerie white glow from the lightening. Arya could make out the floating small vessel as she bursts above water in total panic, throwing her arms up to its rim, coughing up sea water and bile moments before a huge wave sweeps her up and over into the lifeboat. She quickly scrambles up and around the kicking mare, and under the tarp.

She can see an oar sticking out from under an unbroken bench, so she climbs out for the oar, keeping herself a safe distance from the mare. She looks over to the Galley, watching, astounded as she weeps uncontrollably, heaving she barely mutters

“not today, not today” as she collapses

* * *

 

The storm has passed, but the skies are still heavy with heavy grey clouds. Arya has hung onto the lifeboat, slumped in exhaustion and shivering. With what little energy she still has, she weeps again. Her face is now puffy and swollen from a night of tears. She watches a shark fin cut through the waves, her hands have been trailing in the water as she slumped over the vessel, quickly lifting them out. She struggles to raise her head, looking at her new surroundings.  Water and air, clouds and sky, nothing on the horizon.

She creeps forward on the small boat, pulling herself fully upright on the boat. No sign of the Nymeria, or her men. The mare comes into view in the stern, her injured leg folded beneath it, staring unresponsively into the grey, lifeless skies above the vastness of the ocean. Arya shivers, her eyes glassy, lips chapped and skin ashen from hours of exposure. She tries various ways to lift the small collapsible mast, but it kept dropping. A shark slips up alongside the boat and bumps it, sending her scrambling back to the middle of the boat. The lifeboat rolls and growls beneath her feet, the mare nearly unconscious.

Arya sits down, lost in an endless ocean, the subdued colors of morning light dancing on the surface of the water. In a defeated pause, she looks up and sees the majesty of her surroundings. The cloud cover breaking as the light from dawn glows down on the boat. Arya thrusts needle a few times, the whistle of the sharp blade cutting through the sky causes the mare to flick her tail. Arya sits back down, and look over the side of the boat, medium silvering fish swim past.

She realizes her opportunity and thrust needle into the silver fish, flinging it onto the raft. It was still flailing against the wood slats, so she throws her full weight onto the creature to keep it from bouncing back into the ocean. Its struggling to keep alive, bucking like an angered auroch. She pulls needle and strikes the fish over and over again. As the fish begins to die, it struggles for water, its mouth gaping and closing, its tail barley patting the floor, and its silver skin flashing against the sun. It had no scales, except on the lateral line and the corselet. She looks at it, watching this mesmerizing display for the struggle of life in wonder. Finally, the fish ebbs to a dull grey, and lifeless stance.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry” She is devastated and weeps, bringing her hands together, pressing them against her forehead, murmuring to herself and bowing over the dead fish in hopeless anguish.


	36. Daenerys X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick little moment that was inspired by a song. You can click on the link and hear it.

Ginger soup, bitter greens with raisins the size of peas, honeyed lamb slices as thin as paper, noodles in a green sauce, cheese that melted on her tongue served with tart green olives from her orchards first production. The servers, were all young people dressed in white linen tunics who move wordlessly to and from the table, filling their platters and glasses full.

It was a grand space, to say the least. The huge ebony table took up most of the vast space, the dim marbled room offered. It dared its guests to ruin its perfectly oiled shine with their unworthy fingerprints, she could see Jons apprehension to touch it as he sat down in front of her. Two tall, silver three armed candelabras stood between them. Smooth white candles whose wax never seemed to drip, reflected in his clear, moist eyes.

She saw Jon’s face in the candlelight, as she had seen it when the two had first consummated their love years ago. What traces of it a few years of war had left of his freshly combed hair was now loose and barely finger combed, and the once youthful face had slowly been turned into one stained with guilt and sleepless nights.

Jon, seemed somewhat suspicious of his almost black wine, and carefully took a sip of it. He startled, raising the glass to his nose and then to his eyes, and sat it down bewildered.

“Pepper wine…from Tyrosh” she spoke to him

“it has a prickly feel to it” he put the glass down

“mm…yes Daario has his men send it to us from his lands” she tapped her fingers on the table

She saw him raise both of his eyebrows toward the middle and avert her gaze at Daarios name.

“So tell me, how did you find the eggs again?” she took a bite from her salad, pushing some of the greens around with her fork.

“We crossed through the smoking sea to make better time…and I cannot explain but something called me out into the lands…where I ended up finding the eggs” he presented her the eggs in his basket, cradled inside a nest of his spare tunic and placing them in the middle of the table beside the candles.

She didn’t reach for them, last time she hatched her dragons it had cost the lives of her loved ones.

“called you? and you just found them?” _oh how believable he just happened to “find” a pile of eggs_

“It was in my head Dany…a voice, it kept telling me to go there…and I did” he was ruffled to even admit hearing voices and not being believed 

“Those lands are covered with stonemen, and your telling me you just walked right into them and the smoke, and rivers of liquid fire?” she could not help herself from laughing at the ridiculous story

He looked at her and knocked his hand on the top of the table, he took a deep breath, he looked like he wanted to get up and leave.

“Dany…”

“Daenerys” she reminded him, but he only nodded acknowledging he knew her name

“Drogon has been eating the stonemen, and the land is fertile lush with vegetation, the rivers are steaming but not of liquid fire” he grabbed the glass in front of him, hesitant to drink it, but he eventually took another sip.

“A voice called me through the dense forest, and to a large pile of charred bones where I dug with my hands and uncovered the eggs…the voice I heard.. it told me it was there” he just looked at her waiting to be ridiculed again with his lower lip partially covering his top.

She suddenly remembered her dream. The white wolf in the bushes, she remembered talking to him trying to touch him, she remembered him digging in a pile of corpses, a shiver went through her spine and she remembered all those years ago when she heard a lone wolf howl.

“he’s here” she whispered, before she herself took a drink from her glass, letting the tingling feeling coat her tongue

He stopped eating and sat immovable. His eyes shooting up to look at her. They pierced through her just like the wolf in her dreams. They where gray and dark, the flames flickering in them, his dark garbs almost black in the dim light. She felt at her chest, a permanent reminder of what he had done. He noticed and looked down at his plate.

She said nothing and ate in silence, time seemed frozen between the two, until Alaine came quietly to let Daenerys know Joreah had woke from his nap, and giving her an excuse to relieve herself from her overwhelming feelings

“you must excuse me” she got up from her chair and started making her way out, she didn’t necessarily want to leave, but she had to feed their son. _Their son_ , she quickly dismissed the thought.

“I am still your prisoner?” He got up as well, handing her the basket with the eggs. He wasn’t asking for freedom in the tone he asked, but confirmation he still got to stay.

She stood immovable, lost in thought _I guess he could be confused, he had been assigned better quarters and had dinner at my table,_ but he still was her prisoner as much as it pained her so. She only turned her head to look at him, with a forlorn smile that said it all. All those years later, and he had become her prisoner, and he no longer negated it.

* * *

 

She slid off the top portion of her gown, and placed Joreah onto her chest. His little face glowed from a light within, and his tiny fingers grasped hers, and held tight. Somehow it felt to her like he knew she needed comfort in the dead silence of loneliness, he knew she needed joy in the midst of her pain. She held him to her chest tightly, planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

Once he was done feeding, she carefully placed him on his stomach, on Jons cloak she had found in his chest. His little head bobbed as he pushed himself up, gripping for more stability at the fine furs beneath him. Daenerys remembered the basket of eggs Jon had handed to her. At first, she felt apprehension having them in her possession, but dismissed it knowing her son was alive.

She reached over and brought the basket to Joreah, taking both eggs and placing them in front of her son. His eyes lit up, and he flopped back down on his stomach, struggling to reach the eggs with his plump little hands. Little squeals erupted from his gummy smile, and his violet eyes called out for her help.

She laid down next to him, propping her head on her hand and lifting Joreah up in an upright sitting position with her right one. He leaned his back against her stomach, and she gently rolled the eggs closer to him. She watched him coo at the eggs, trying to lift them high enough to rub his mouth over them. Little trails of drool glistened over the already shiny onyx shells. She put her arms down and nestled her head in the furs. Immediately Jon’s scent made his presence known, making her heart skip a beat.

She inhaled again, almost a year and just like that her head still took her back. She thought she was done thinking of him, but those times were really her best. She thought it over, knowing she would see him again, knowing she would struggle to get over him again.

She thought of the kiss that was meant to be a goodbye, it was the last, where he cut right through them. She couldn’t keep wanting him back, but she knew in her heart this battle wasn’t over. She lightly traced where her scar was under her gown, and reached out with her other hand to hold Joreah’s little leg. She felt like she was just a mess.

“I don’t know how to draw the line with your father” she quietly spoke to her son, but he only squealed in delight at her voice and patted the egg with streaked of jade.

She rolled over on her stomach and fingered the fur coat, stroking it in between the tufts she produced. The cloak was just as it always was, warm to the touch and musky with his hypnotizing scent. She needed to get off of it, she pushed up on her arms to rise back up, initiating some more babbles from her son.

Tomorrow she would take him outside. She need to get some fresh air, as it was beginning to feel hot inside her chambers. She glanced at the eggs, remembering the heat her sons used to produce.

* * *

                                                                                        

With Joreahs new found sense of movement, she had taken it upon herself to take him down to the gardens to explore the different textures and sights. It was a miniature orchard of her personal fruit baring trees and native shrubs, each of them trimmed as if they were living sculptures. They moved move about them listening to natures music, a song that could not be spoken in words, yet it was heard by them and calmed everything that she was.

She handed him different leaves, flowers, and sticks to hold and throw. She pointed at the bees, butterflies and little birds that fluttered around. She looked around trying to see if she spotted Drogon in the sky, but she assumed he was out hunting at that particular time.

She heard the distant sound of strings being played and began to make her way towards them. She knew it was not Tyrion as it had become apparent that he was also terrible at playing the harp. 

She walked through some lavender bushes of mid height, with their branching and spreading shrubs of grey-green leaves and long flowering shoots, their aroma wafting in the air as she brushed past them. She felt a small tug from Joreah as he somehow grasped the purple flowers and yanked, instantaneously putting it in his mouth. She laughed and began to wipe the purple blue petals out of his mouth and tongue.

The melody became louder as she approached the opening, quickly stopping as she wallowed in the image before her.

Jon sat on one of the lounge chairs in the garden. He must have heard her as he looked up, and when he did it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from her lungs, floating into the air like dandelions seeds after being blown on.

He did not stop playing and gave her a quick apologetic look for impeding on her peace.  It felt like the world had stopped, leaving just the two of them to wander the earth together. This moment felt exactly like what falling in love was described to feel like, a song you never wanted to end. She looked around, only her unsullied stood guard at a distance. 

She returned the smile and brought Joreah close enough to hear the melody Jon played. It was sad and gloriously cheerful at the same time. She sat down on a nearby lounge chair with Joreah on her lap, he bounced up on his pudgy legs and squealed in joy tugging at her hair. She could see Jon turn to look at his son and her. His eyes moistened with tears of joy, but he only kept playing the small wooden harp.

Daenerys closed her yes and let the warmth of the sun envelope her in its arms. She could feel Joreah quietly starting to snuggle on her, pawing at her loose gown. She could hear him cooing, as he placed his little head on her chest listening to her beating heart.

“Does the song have words?” She asked Jon, almost afraid that she would break the spell.

“Somewhat” his voice gravely, holding its usual vigor back

“Do you think...?” No she dared not say it, she refused to open her eyes must her dream end.

“Do I think what?” He asked curiously but he slowly started to pluck the higher strings

“Nothing...it was just a thought” fearing she was about to lose what she held behind her closed eyes.

 

[“In the morning when I wake](https://soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)

[And the sun is coming through..,](https://soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)

[Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness..,](https://soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)

[And you fill my head with you...”](https://soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)

 

Daenerys opened her eyes, she could see him still playing. It felt like a dreamlike haze had taken over the garden, he inspired her with his voice, his eyes saying what the words could never say. She felt transfixed in the moment, lost and speechless by his mere presence. She was ready to give of herself , though she feared the inevitable that he would betray her again...soon. She looked down at Joreah who had now closed his eyes and snoozed peacefully to his mother’s heartbeat and his fathers voice.

[“...Can I take it to a morning](https://soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)...

[Where the fields are painted gold](https://soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)...

[And the trees are filled with memories](https://soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)...

[Of the feelings never told?...”](https://soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)

 

But for this moment and this moment only, She would bask in the present as She was inspired to stay and let whatever transpired between them last her a lifetime... sweet memories to treasure.

She closed her eyes again, letting this surreal moment take its course. For so long she had longed for it, to be held for eternity in the arms she had once grown so accustomed to, and now the dream was teetering on disappearing, the thought of losing this moment that made her feel so complete made her unexpectedly lose herself, only to be reminded that it was not a dream by the warmth of soft lips on her forehead.

She startled and quickly opened her eyes, only to see Jon planting another kiss on his sons head and quietly walking away.

_[“](https://m.soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus)[...When the evening pulls the sun down..,](https://m.soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus) _

_[And the day is almost through..,](https://m.soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus) _

_[Oh, the whole world it is sleeping..,](https://m.soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus) _

_[But my world is you...”](https://m.soundcloud.com/nettwerkmusicgroup/the-paper-kites-bloom-bonus) _

she could still hear his voice, so she stayed, basking in the moment until the sun set, and the breeze of a cool night began to blow.


	37. From the West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title pretty much explains itself. I’ll add more tid bits here and there
> 
> If you have input on who’s mini clip you’d like to see let me know.

 

**Sam**

The journey had been rough and cold. Riding sluggishly, they swayed left and right almost falling off their horses. Sam turned to see Gilly and little Sam, both barely able to keep their eyes open, every so often closing them, until a nipping breeze would stir them. They were dressed in the thick winter wear made for the nights watch, and many more layers underneath as well. They were riding Northwards, and hadn’t fully reacquainted with the temperature, and the lands were even colder where they were going.

The North was still a vast and thick blanket of sparkling white snow that spread for miles. Nothing but a mountainous landscape, with ominous grey clouds floating drifting in front of the sun. Just enough light barely slipping through, and reflecting on the snow, burning their noses and cheeks.

“Sam?” Gilly pressed on her swollen abdomen.

“You should go back, you’ll be a deserter” her face now showing obvious discomfort

“Gilly, we agreed wed be going to your old home, our children will be happier than at Castleblack”

“Sam you’ll be a deserter, and one with a wildling for a wife”

“Jon deserted too and look at him, he is King now” his voice salted

“You know better than all of us that man did not desert the Nights Watch…and im sure he never took an oath again…he wasn’t even here long enough to do so” she pressed her palms at the sides of her stomach.

Sam noticed and stopped his horse; Little Sam was nestled inside of his coat sleeping. He looked around the vast open space, behind them by a few miles would be The Queens Gate and a bit further left would be the Nightfort. He would not be accepted by any of the wildlings that currently settled at The Queens gate, they where loyal to Jon, and he had not been as faithful as he would have wanted.

He took a deep breath, letting hot steam from it blow as little white clouds in front of him. Gilly shifted uncomfortably on her steed. He looked forward into the vastness, Crasters Keep was a few days ride out. The sun was beginning to go down, and the nips from the cold where starting to bite.

“Well head to the Nightfort for a few days, no one should disturb us there”

Gilly nodded in agreement, both quickly turning their horses into that direction.

  

* * *

  **Sansa**

 

“Maester Wolkan”

“Yes your Grace..I mean..uh”

“My Lady” she corrected the partially balding man infront of her

“please tell me the current count of grain we have left” She quilled on some parchment dipping the quill into the ink every few strokes.

The larger man rubbed the top is his blading head and down to the side of his face.

“Last count was two thousand one hundred and forty-three bushels in each Silo”

“...and were down three of the eight correct?” she stopped penning and looked up

“yes, My Lady”

Sansa pushed back on her chair and grabbed a scroll with the last counts of food storage, glancing at the diminishing amounts per good. No one was trading with the North, or the South, and The Lord Paramount had just sent a raven asking for word on Jon. She released an exasperated sigh _what would have that dreadful woman would have done?_ she asked herself _nothing, shed let her dragons eat the townsfolk…then again that’s not such a bad idea if were trying to survive._

“Please send a few bushels to bravos for exchange in salts and spices, and maybe a few barrels of oil”

“Im afraid…Braavos is not exporting more than salt and low amounts of pepper”

“and Tyrosh?”

“they have ceased all trade with Westeros, and the merchants who do come…ask for an exuberated price”

“Then raise the price for grain that are not for trade in salt or pepper” she flicked a crumpled parchment into the nearby hearth, watching it be consumed by the roaring flames. They needed the salts to cure the meats, _and pepper…well who doesn’t need it to add flavor to the barely consumable options available at the moment._ She got up and looked outside the window, her warm breath fogging the glass, the little bubbled inside of it giving it a vision of a frozen pond.

“Well…then we have no option than to trade with Dorne for their oils and spices”     

Wolkan bowed his head and made his way out to carry on his task. It always took longer by horse and the cost was equally as high, if not higher since Dorne was in no need for trade with Winterfell. She dabbed her index finger on the fogged glass in the shape of a pawprint, _the lone wolf dies_ … her thoughts drifted into where her mouth had taken her. _If only I had never said anything_.

* * *

  **Gendry**

The wind howled up in the Skycells. It pushed and thrust itself screaming its agonizing cry as it battered the open room. Gendry fastened his coat better as he neared Bran. The pale scrawny young man sat in his wheelchair staring out to the steep drop. His back was to him, and somehow, he knew it was Gendry that has come through the door.

“Lord Baratheon”

“Lord Stark”

“That title does not belong to me” he turned his head to gaze upon him, Gendry could see his hair had grown longer since he had been banished here. Gendry stepped cautiously closer, he hated heights.

“Don’t be afraid” his voice was soft

Gendry cleared his throat, was it that obvious of his fear. He was now side by side to Bran, both looking out, any sudden misstep could spell the doom for either of them. He glanced at the chair, the wheels tightly held by Brans long thin hand.

“They are out there. You don’t need to kill me” Bran spoke again, he knew why he had come.

Something about him reminded him so much of Melissandre. Gendry

shivered at the memory of his time with the red woman.

“Alive? All of them?” Truly it was to be the death of Jon that would cause Brans demise.

Bran turned the wheels to his chair to roll back and swiveled to face Gendry. 

“Tell me Lord Baratheon, if you had seen your future and you had to hurt the people you love for the greater good... would you?”

Gendry pondered this question, he only loved one person in his entire life, but she did not love him back the way he wanted, and even then he wouldn’t be able to. Was he talking about Jon, Davos, Tyrion, Or himself? What was the greater good? How could he know what was best? And if he did see his future could he change it?

“It’s a difficult question...but I do not think I would be able to”

Bran turned his head to see out in the horizon, he searched as if looking for an answer that wasn’t there. Gendry had seen the same look on Melisandre before, the many times she had questioned her own actions. He felt a cold gust come in and envelope them.

“Why didn’t you tell them what would happen In Kingslanding?”

“You said so yourself... **you** would not be able to hurt those you love”

“But you told Jon about his past, and it led to Daenerys death!?”

“...it was for love”

Gendry did not understand so he just ruffled his own hair and crouched down to sit near the edge of the Skycell. He thought about having to kill Arya, and he shook his head, he could not imagine it no matter how hard he tried.

Bran rolled to almost the edge of the cell and looked down.

“Every flight begins with a fall”

And as strange as that comment was, it was the only one that made sense.

* * *

 


	38. Jon XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I have not posted in a while, I decided to release a long one. Hope you all enjoy.

He slipped down into the water. The room was steaming with hot vapors seeping from small holes in the walls. Jon let the hissing sounds surrounding him disappear. He instead tried focusing on the lingering memory of Daenerys warm skin on his lips, and the sweet scent of his son. Memories of little Rickon flashed through his mind. A familiar gut-wrenching feeling overwhelmed him as he recalled the last moments of the child being shot down in front of him.

Jon laid his head back, as he stared at the impressive columns all around the rectangular pool. Each linked to the next, by a perfect stone archway that highlighted the high bright blue ceilings. He tried shaking off the salted memories the sweet ones had brought to him. He stared at the water. It was a perfect blue reflection of the ceilings, reminding Jon of the blue run-off from the Frostfangs. It made him wonder if the water was really that color, or just colored stone underneath. Jon dipped himself under and opened his eyes. The stone underneath was smooth and light beneath his bare feet. The water was clear, and the expected sting from the typical oils was not there. Jon could hear the beating of his heart, and the rushing of his blood underwater. It sounded as loud as he thought it did when he was near Daenerys. 

He popped his head back above the water, as he needed a breath of air. The once warm humid surroundings now felt refreshing on his steaming skin.  _Why would she ever want Westeros when she had this place?_ He pondered her reasons, _the constant reminder that she was the rightful heir, how she wanted to break the wheel, the lack of support, her constant struggle to be accepted, and her many losses. She needed to feel in control, the little bit of it that she had left._  He could still see her shocked expression when he told her the revelation of his lineage. He reminded her he never wanted the throne, but she was scared to lose everything she had fought for. Everything that was and had ever been to them, was built on lies, and he was still processing he was not a Stark. He didn’t have the emotional stability to help her process her own reactions at the time. He had shut himself out of the world, pushing her away, and exuberating the feelings of dread she accumulated inside.

He heard the soft scuffle of footsteps walking in, so he tilted his head up to peer over the pools edge. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, came coiling back into his midsection. Daario was busily walking around. Jon knew the bath was meant to hold a good amount of people at a time, but he hadn’t seen him here, or anyone else since he had been using the baths on the floor below where he stayed. 

He rolled his head back and closed his eyes, he preferred to avoid in any arguments that could push him back to the prison cells. He could hear and feel the quiet movement of water coming from further away. The silence was louder than his thoughts, _maybe I should get out, I have already soaked long enough._

Jon opened his eyes to find his way to the steps. Near them he saw Daario sitting inside the water, on the ledge with his own head tilted back on the stone edge of the bath. Jon could see he had brought with him a large crystal decanter that stood idly next to him. Inside, a dark amber liquid shone in both the cup he grasped and the decanter.

Jon quietly moved to the stone steps near where Daario sat. He was almost out of the warm water when he heard Naharis speak

“Don’t leave on my account...why not join me in a drink instead?”

“I’d rather not” He didn’t want to join him, so he kept walking up the steps.

“come on you’re not going to tell me you haven’t shared a drink with a foe before?”

“you’re not what I would consider a foe”

At that Daario quickly brought up his glass and tilted it to his lips. The liquid amber disappearing in one smooth gulp. 

“If you had your sword…you would have tried to drive that into my beating heart as well…that makes me your foe” he exhaled as he slid the glass on the floor, spinning it quickly so it made its way to knock on Jon’s ankle. 

Jon took a look at Daario, his face chiseled and marred by a rough life. His skin was smooth and tinted a golden hue from life out in the sun. Underneath, his muscles rippled through the taught honed body from years of battle. Jon knelt down to pick up the glass by the rim and hovered near the flagon

“without my sword I have no option but to maintain peace” he filled the glass up and took a swig. 

The burning sensation of the liquid brought forward flavors of dried fruits and spices. The familiar smell of that brown liquid Tyrion had drunk, leather, smoke, and the oak barrel infiltrated his senses as he exhaled. Jon slid back into the water and adjusted himself at the edge of the pool. He was a few feet away from Daario, both men completely undressed and as vulnerable as each could get.

He put the cup back in front on the decanter. Naharis quickly reached out filling his cup again, and swirled the liquid before taking a small sip.

“the heat from the room brings out its aroma and flavors” he mentioned to Jon

“I’ve never tasted that before, actually much of the foods here I’ve never even heard of” Jon made small talk. Truthfully, he needed a decent drink, as the only options available where water, and that foul tasting Ghiscari wine that the servants guzzled down more eagerly than the new sand filtered well water.

“Westerosi…so uncultivated in the finer tastes” Naharis mocked at Jon’s confession

Jon raised his eyebrow at him. Everything about Naharis physically spoke of a man who was not raised in a cultured setting, but then again, he knew nothing of the man.

“Where are you from?” He asked Naharis. His accent was thick in the common tongue, but he had heard him speak Dothraki and even some Valyrian.

“Tyrosh, quite close to your lovely Crownlands”

“not really, I’m from the North of Westeros…its very different there” 

“tell me about this North” Daario adjusted himself and turned to look at him, sincere interest rose from his eyes. Jon supposed, just as him, he wanted to know his adversary. He had learned, it was wise to learn of your enemies, if you wanted to defeat them. He grinned at Daario and spoke fondly of his home lands.

“The climate is a bit extreme, the winters are forbidding and have at several times almost destroyed the country from its invaders…” he supposed Daario wouldn’t know whom he spoke about, so he continued on about the land itself

“the climate there does add a layer of difficulty to our daily life, but the land is generous for crops and resources during the summer…the Crownlands you spoke of are more welcoming with its tepid weathers”

“so, the people have opportunities to make a better living there too? I had the understanding it was not so” He understood Daario, people in Essos seemed to have better opportunities of climbing the ladder despite their birth right, unlike in Westeros where you were only born into opportunity.

“the fruitfulness of the resources available have not rendered an easy life for most of our people, just like much Westeros’s...it has always been a tale of the very few wealthy and powerful ruling over a great mass of their much poorer and powerless thralls”

Daario finished his glass and poured Jon another.

“I was born of a whore, obviously I do not know my father but here I could make a decent living for myself… It was not always like this, and Daenerys fought so slaves could be free and have the same opportunities as myself”

“I heard…” The man didn’t even mention he was appointed as ruler during the time Daenerys was abroad. He took a sip and listened to Naharis continue

“you should have seen her on her Silver when she rode into Meereen...she was so astonishingly striking when she came to conquer" Jon could see him recalling the remembrance that ran through his mind. Jon decidedly overlooked the lust in Daarios voice, he could tell the man was not trying to prompt a reaction, as he had had an opportunity to a few seconds before. Interestingly enough, he hadn’t mentioned her riding on Drogon.

"how come she didn't ride her dragon? it would've made for a more remarkable entry do you not suppose?

"she doesn’t need her dragons to be remarkable...hence why the both of us have fallen for her, but to answer your question...the dragons where still fledgling and unruly”

Jon had never considered the Dragons ever being small, or with the personality of a teenager. Daenerys had always spoke about them like they were her children and would even get upset if you said any negative comment about the impressive beasts. He chuckled to himself, prompting a look from Daario that sought after an explanation for his sudden laughter.

"Once she tried convincing me that her Dragons were beautiful...she did not take kindly, when I said that was not the word I would have used to describe them"

Daario raised his eyebrow and with a tilt of his head he nodded in agreement. He himself then laughed and took a sip of his drink. It was becoming apparent that the alcohol was beginning to kick in. 

"Well her first son had scales and a tail like her dragons...well that’s what I heard from the Dothraki” he glanced at Jon with a taunting gaze, but the alcohol had subdued any angered response Jon could’ve had _._

“Did he have a name?” He reached for the glass. It had been a quick reminder, he did not know much of anything about her first marriage, let alone the full reason why she thought she couldn’t have children.

Daario only responded with a shrug, but with Jon's intense stare he retracted

"aye... I think she named him Rheago” he gave a small nod and pursed his lips as he sucked on his teeth, acknowledging that he had the right information.

"were you there when she...lost her first son?" he needed to know more about Dany, more about this magnificent woman he had come to love. The good, the bad, the beautiful and ugly. He needed more of her. Sadly, everyone else who knew her during this time of her life, was dead. Everyone except, Tyrion and Grey Worm who would never even give him the time of day. Let alone hold a conversation with him. That just left him with Naharis _, I guess it was a good thing I agreed to join him._

"no, only Jorah was, he knew her as a child. I know this from bits and pieces I have put together... as she herself only lets you know enough"

"we can agree on that" Jon thought of the many conversations she had with him, she had never delved further than the surface of each truth. He never knew she had given birth to a malformed child, let alone named it.  _Rhaego, Drogo, Viserys those names...she had named her dragons after those names. Names of her past, the dead that put her on this road._

"How did Viserys pass?"

"Viserys??"

"Her brother..." he reminded the man, but Naharis only shrugged.  He had now tilted his head back, and began closing his eyes again. 

"I never knew him, just that he sold her to her Khal"  

Jon watched as the man rested there, bold, quiet, and so sure of himself. _She had been sold by a family member, to be raped and subsequently defiled_. He looked down at his uncovered body, and then at Naharis. They were both of a physically average size.

He thought of the night when Daenerys had taken him willingly. She was so tiny and defenseless under his body, any impulsive thrust from him caused her to wince in both pleasure and pain. Her usual control completely lost in his arms as she exposed her vulnerability.

He shuddered to think the pain she must have endured at the hands of her Kahl. She had then only been a child. He traced his scars with his index finger. Each ridge calling back at the piercing scorching agony he had endured as the daggers pierced his skin. The shrill metal going in and back out, slashing him open until he exhaled his last cold breath.

“You and our Grace have similar scars” Daario hadn’t moved his eyes, as they were still closed. 

“You’ve seen hers?”  _The only way he could’ve would have been...no she hadn’t gone back to him? Did she?_

He opened his eyes again, and looked at Jon. He smirked as he saw the distrust in Jon’s face.

Jon grabbed the glass cup and poured more liquor into it. He took another swig of it and grabbed the ledge from behind him, using it to raise himself out of the water. Excusing himself, he grabbed a towel.

Jon wrapped it around him as he neared the exit from the bath room. He pushed the door open, letting some steam escape from the room. He heard Naharis call again.

"your still my foe”

“Of course, that’s why I only made peace here” Little finger had been wise in some ways, and insecure in many others. _She hadn't gone back to him_.

 

 

* * *

 

"Gods!" he exclaimed as the heat consumed him inside his mouth. At first the rich earthy, undertones in the pork tasted delicious alongside the intense garlic flavor. He tried breathing in and out to put it out. An almost fruity tang accompanied each exhale. Even drinking the cool well water did nothing for him. His face had turned bright red and the heat had begun to spread down to his neck as he began to cough.

"Here" she exclaimed as she handed him a slice of bread.

Jon took it and let the dense slice soak the heat in his mouth. He looked at Alaine and heaved as he kept tearing at the slice. The girl began to laugh at the scene before her and handed him another slice. 

"It’s pork sausage with garlic and hot peppers" she reminded him and rolled her eyes

"who eats this stuff?"

"Her grace, she loves it!" Alaine giggled as she said it

Jon could faintly remember Daenerys always complaining about the blandness of the food in the North. She always made sure to put more pepper on her food, and dashed enough salt on top of her meals that it looked like a fine dusting of snow. He just never imagined her enjoying the excruciating heat that these so-called peppers produced. 

"Will you be joining us for the festivities?"

"what? no I can’t"

"why did you think I brought you to taste this?"

"because you like to secretly torture me" he looked Alaine up and down. The young girl was always bringing him something new to eat. When she was not caring for his son, they would sit together telling stories of their past lives, enjoying the small break from the day. Every once in a while, Alaine would ask him about those dark times, but would quickly change topic when she saw his mood start to dampen. 

She burst out laughing and took a bite of the sausage he had just eaten. She reminded Jon very much of Arya. Her dark long hair, pale skinny body and the once humorous attitude his sister once donned. She however, looked more groomed like Sansa. Her dark locks always neatly brushed and tied back with a thin bow around her head. 

"yes! you caught me" she chewed away swallowing the spicy meat and rolling her eyes again. 

"Jon?"

"hmm?" his mouth was full of duck eggs that Alaine had brought in her basket. 

"I really hope you end up joining us tonight"

It was the unveiling of the stone river. There was to be a feast to finally let the water flow out into a completed part of the river in the city. Jon, had been working on it up until that previous evening, when they cleaned out the construction debris from around the sites. 

"I don’t think I belong there" He told Alaine, motioning to his drab outfit. In truth, he would have gone even like he was, if Daenerys had not been avoiding him since that day in the gardens. _Had I been too forward and inadvertently pushed myself into a deeper hole?_  

"I’m sure I can fix that" she pulled on his sleeve with a glint of a smile.

He looked around the Terrace. The sun shone bright, and the warmth from its rays coated the garden like a fur coat during a chilly morning in Winterfell. Daenerys had not been outside for a few days now.

“I think she’s avoiding me” he finally relented to tell the persistent girl.

“Well you did murder her” Alaine was serious, her eyes seared through Jon and he felt the sting from her words in his throat. He couldn’t say anything back in his defense. The once bright warm feeling he had felt, was cold and dark now.

“I do appreciate your honesty” he managed to mumble under his breath

Alaine began to laugh once again

“I’m serious what do you expect? For her to forgive you so easily?”

Jon felt terrible Alaine was being so brutally honest.  _What did he expect? for Dany to just forget what he had done? How did he expect her to just turn a blind eye to his betrayal?_

“...but she is not avoiding you because of that” he heard the girl finally say

“So, she is avoiding me”

“No, Joreah has come down with a fever, so she’s been with him since then”

“A fever?!” he hated not being aware of anything that involved his family, even if he wasn’t considered part of it.

“Yes...she blames herself for staying out with him so late a couple days ago”

Jon felt terrible. He remembered how tired Lady Catelyn was when one of them became sick. The sleepless nights, the constant crying from both her and them. Ned would try and help, holding them in his arms against his broad chest, rubbing their backs until they fell asleep. This gave Catelyn a chance to catch up on some sleep herself. They had been very hands on with the children, refusing to have their help carry the burden of the sick lordling’s and a bastard. He assumed from Alaine’s comment that Dany was the same.

“How is she?”

“Tired, I don’t think she has slept at all...I should go and offer her some help...maybe this time she’ll agree and take a break before the festivities” Alaine stood up and handed Jon the rest of the food. He noticed her smiling as he realized it was mostly spicy sausage that was left. Jon nodded and watched the girl leave to help with what he couldn’t. 

Jon grabbed the sausage and took a very smile bite. The flavors bloomed inside his mouth, slowly warming and coating his tongue with a hint of fire. 

“Gods Dany...” he put it back into the basket and walked it over to the kitchens.

   

* * *

 

There stood the investors, lords, and wealthy from around her cities. It was a squadron of fancy outfits, scents and jewelry. None of them seeming to have ever created anything worthwhile in their lives, other than breeding coppers, spreading corruption and separation between the masses. They stood there so proud and so unaware that they had been the rot of the world.

Danaerys had been speaking with them since their arrival. Each one asking her, how this was going to affect or influence their economy. The watercourse had been a very costly public work, and not all the cities necessarily required one. So, Daenerys had used her own wealth for its preliminary erection. Jon came to realize, that even though she was the Queen, she still allowed the Lords to have some say of their city’s organization.

"Sathar, has their water needs met by waterfalls or our public and private cisterns dug beneath our houses" one lord barked out from the crowd

"So why do we need this then?" another inquired

"Well as you all know, there is still a very large part of Essos which is not useful for farming or raising livestock…the one thing Westeros has figured out how to do well" she reminded her liege Lords and glanced Jon a look from where she stood.

"Why do we care to be like them? that country is poor"

"its poor because the nobility there has only tried to control their resources such as their land, mines, agricultural tracts, wells, ponds rivers and ports instead of making their people and their resources flourish...many Kingdoms there have valuable resources but none have any significant establishments besides their own castles"

Jon could hear the muttering of the graying old men that surrounded her. They were not accustomed to think of anyone but their own bloodlines. She was changing these lands, and she was taking small steps to convince them politically and show them different ways of doing things. 

"If we do not encourage finance or trade within our nobility and change our attitude towards the commoners and peasants as throwaway byproducts rather than people that need to be taken care of... they cannot and will not give back to the lands that house us"

the murmuring and muttering rose. 

"Some cities need much more water than their wells and cisterns can provide" another voice rose in the background. 

"Cities like Braavos needed an entire system of aqueducts not only for drinking water but also for supplying ornamental public fountains and baths, how does one regulate the use of water for public and private use?"

The questions where valid, how would one regulate the use of the stone rivers? Jon sat back listening to the concerns of the people. During his time in the construction, they had noticed that they could channel water using different pipes. The wider the pipes the quicker the water traveled and filled buckets with water.

"Homeowners who can afford running water can pay for the service based on the diameter of their access pipe" He pipped in, Dany glanced at him. She looked surprised he would even meddle in her politics. 

"It’s not an entirely foolproof billing system" Grey worm countered

"Bravos has records of homeowners installing wider pipes than those for which they paid" another lord rebutted

"We can install a sleeved pipe to be fitted into the wall of wherever the water will flow into, which can be decorated to prevent forgeries or alterations” Jon countered

"and who will regulate that?"

"guards, the same ones that fill the city tanks now"

"Then we will have to raise taxes to pay for these improvements" another countered

"These aqueducts will supply enough work for our people, they can be compensated for it and afford the raise in taxes" Daenerys reassured them

There were some nods in agreement and others which showed apprehension to the implementation of the aqueducts. Thankfully there was enough music and food to quickly distract them from their political banter to enjoy the rest of the evening.

Jon wore his long black sleeveless leather waistcoat. It had a drawstring at his waist and an opened forked hem. It was of a fuzzy napped leather, that made its black color look like a night sky with all its stars plucked out from it. His britches, as well as the waistcoat had been slim fitted, accentuating his very toned sun kissed figure. 

He couldn't have been more grateful with Alaine. Somehow, she had convinced Daenerys to give back his clothing at least during the event. However, she had kept his silver Sigil brooch and the red tunic that went underneath the waistcoat. It was too hot to wear a tunic underneath, so he didn’t mind going sleeveless. His hair had been neatly pulled back at his sides, and his polished look was calling attention from many visiting noble ladies.   

One of the women neared him at the table holding the giant pyramid of sweet and savory pastries. Jon held a platter full of sweet purple grapes, figs, olives and salted meats in his left hand. The Auburn-haired woman reached over and grabbed a silver tong, and pulled a tart filled with melted cheese, Mushrooms, and Caramelized Onions and placed it in his platter.

 "We’ve yet to see you before" she neared him, taking a grape from his platter and popping it in her mouth. Jon raised his eyebrow in questioning. He looked around, he realized he had somehow managed to move himself to the more secluded area of the terrace. He cleared his throat and pulled himself back by moving over to the other side of the table to fill up on cheeses. The other women she had been with, turned around and let their friend continue her accosting.

“I’m not from Meereen” he answered her back.

She moved to follow, watching him intently as he slathered some fresh pink fish roe on top of a slice of toasted bread and this fruit called an avocado. She pulled her glass cup to her lips and took a sip. When done, she licked the side of her lips slowly, grazing her tongue on her teeth in the process.

“So then where are you from?”

“Much colder lands” he politely replied and began making his way back to where the majority of the visitors where. He could feel her closely following behind. He searched for a table to put his plate down, luckily finding one with an empty chair. He politely excused himself and sat between some Meereenes nobles and Astapori Merchants.

Unfortunately for Jon, one of the men got up to sit next to a fellow merchant at one of the nearby round tables. The woman took the opportunity to sit next to Jon and continued to banter him with her brazenness.

“My name is Camille, my brother and I are from Tyrosh” she looked him up and down, an obvious hunger for his heat consumed her eyes. He looked around to see if there was anyone else around to curve her enthusiasm, but everyone seemed busy talking to each other about lands he had not heard of. 

“My name is Jo.. Aegon” he replied as he fed himself a bite of the salted meat he had piled on his plate.

“Aegon...do you happen to have a family name?”

He only smiled and continued to eat, making his full mouth an excuse not to answer her.  _Gods why did she choose me of all people to banter? Fuck me..._

“Lady Scallanti” he heard Daenerys voice call out from behind him

Immediately, everyone rose from the table and bowed their heads as she made her presence known.

“Your grace, it’s such a pleasure to see you again” Camille devotedly replied. 

 “I see your betrothed is not here”

He could see Camille blush in embarrassment that washed over her face.

“Unfortunately, he met the fate of all men” she cleared her throat at the confession 

“How unfortunate to hear of his passing” Daenerys motioned for the rest of the guest to sit back down. Very delicately she placed her hand on Jon’s bare shoulder and lightly rubbed the curve of his muscle.

“I see you’ve met Lord Aegon Targaryen” she smiled down at them  _Had she been watching them?_ He tried to look at Dany, but she avoided looking into his eyes. Her lips spread across her face into a smile and leaned forward towards them. Her hand was still settled on Jon’s shoulder, lightly caressing it without looking at him, her eyes fixed onto Camille. With all these people all around he was crippled with anxiety  
But something told him it's where he was supposed to be.

“Oh yes your grace we were just introducing ourselves to each other” she smiled and batted her eyelashes at Jon. He didn’t want to be here with her, he hoped Daenerys had realized that.

“Then I’ll leave you two to it then” She gave Jon one more light squeeze and began to walk away. He couldn’t see her face, but he felt the emptiness inside of her voice. It spread inside him, like the stinging warmth from her hold. He ached to feel her touch again. He wanted to get up and grab her in an embrace, to be able to willingly press his lips against hers. To let her know he was all but trying to avoid this woman. Instead he was stuck here looking at Camille drown herself in more wine and throw herself on him.

“So, you two are related I gather?” he heard Camille say as he turned to look back at Daenerys, who had now been ambushed by Naharis. Jon’s eyes grew dark at the sight of them nearing each other, but sparkling amber eyes quickly interrupted his sight.

“If not for her Lord Commander I would’ve thought you two carried the same traditions as your ancestors” she giggled and placed her hand on top of his wrist and slowly trailed down toward his upper thigh. 

“The Lord Commander Naharis?” His jaw tightened at the thought, oblivious under his beard to the woman beside him.

“Oh yes, he is a fine fellow...but you...” she gave his thigh a slight squeeze. Jon looked back again where Daenerys had gone. She was talking with Daario, both laughing about something that he could not hear. He watched as Naharis, once again placed his hand on Daenerys lower back and guided her towards another group of visitors. She didn’t pull away, but when Daario looked away to greet a finely dressed man, Jon caught Dany quickly glancing back at them. 

Jon lightly grabbed Camille’s hand and placed it back on the table. As he did, he noticed Alaine was approaching Dany with Joreah. The babe had the look of a child that had just awoken. He squealed in joy as he saw his mother.

 “So, your brother?” He tried distracting her with polite conversation, shifting his chair so he could see what partook behind him without having to crane his neck.

“He’s over there with the Queen” she pointed at the young man that had approached Daario not too long ago. She waved at her brother from her seat. He had thick curled hair the same color as hers, with a resemblance to what Robb used to look like.

“Aegon?  you know the child’s father? I’ve been telling Hugo that it’s her lord Commanders, but he insists otherwise”

Jon looked back at Camille and scratched at the underside of his beard. What was he supposed to say? He hadn’t even held his son once, not that he deserved to. He shouldn’t even be here, then again if Daenerys didn’t want him there, she wouldn’t have agreed to give him back his fine clothes. Better yet she wouldn’t have bothered to approach him, to subtly claim him in front of this woman.

“How about we go over there, and ask her grace?” He stood up and started making his way over to their direction. He decided he didn’t want to sit here with her, letting Dany mingle with Daario as her companion. He heard Camille push back on her chair and scamper towards him, the point of her heels clacking against the hard-stone ground.

“You will not ask her that question!” She demanded, but Jon just smirked at her. Her face turned white with fear and reached out to tug on Jon’s arms, but right before they reached the group Jon turned to her

“Relax... I will not ask her” he could see her face show relief and her posture relax at his words. She was the perfect key to infiltrate the group, without being forward with Daenerys.

“Oh, if it isn’t the white dog...” the sellsword brought a cup of liquor to his lips at Jon’s presence.

“You are so clever Lord Naharis” Jon chuckled as he presented himself to the group

“Lord Scallanti this is Lord Aegon Targeryan” Daenerys’s voice was smooth an unfazed as she presented him to Camille’s brother. Joreah clung tightly to Dany, he rubbed his mouth over her shoulder in a desperate attempt to sooth his itching gums. Jon couldn’t help but smile, as he watched trails of dribble begin to accumulate where he gnawed.

“I see you have met my sister Camille?” Hugo mentioned as he saw his sister make her way next to Jon and in between Daenerys.

“Yes, she is such a pleasure to get know” he could see Daario silently judging him, holding back his need to make inappropriate comments.

“I had not heard of another living Targeryan...I mean we pride ourselves with being the most productive merchant traders in Tyrosh, but how can we be… if we do not know of our possible clients?” Hugo declared as he inquired about this sudden information. 

“I’m afraid I am not...” he was quickly interrupted as a loud gagging sound could be heard from Joreah. Dany immediately patted his back, causing a sudden gush of spit up to fly out of his mouth and onto her dress. Camille jumped back at the scene, quickly avoiding the mess. 

“Oh no! My darling!” He heard Dany coo, not pulling him into her arms as she was covered in a milky white liquid. 

“I guess this is what I am looking forward to in the next few months...my wife is due by the time we return” Hugo informed as he swirled his wine in his glass and sipped.

Daario quickly took off to flag one of the servants to bring back Alaine so she could assist Daenerys. Jon took this opportunity and reached out for Joreah. Daenerys paused for a moment, unsure what to do, until their son began to kick in excitement at the sight of Jon. She cautiously released her hold on him, her eyes darkening as she gazed at Jon. There was no trust in her eyes, and he doubted he would ever see it in them again. It stung, but he pulled his son into his chest.  This was the first time since he had seen him that he was able to hold him. 

Daario had come back with a napkin and began to wipe away the spit up. Oblivious to what had just transpired. Daenerys quickly held his hand to keep him from continuing. Instead, she asked Daario if he could help accompany the guests, while Alaine helped her change into something clean. At this, the sell sword realized she had left Joreah in Jon’s care. His eyes narrowed onto Jon, but he followed through with her requests. Dany thanked him and motioned to some guard to keep an eye on Jon as she made her way with Alaine to her apartment.

Jon kissed the top on his son’s head, taking in a deep breath to enjoy his lovely scent. It was a mix of innocence, milk, sweetness and the one distinguishing scent that was only his mother’s...lavender. Joreah immediately grasped Jon’s fingers and began to gnaw at them. The babes hot wet mouth rubbed furiously at his finger with inflamed red gums.

“He doesn’t look like his mother” Hugo remarked as he observed Jon.

“Aye...but he’s got her eyes” he removed his hands from Joreah’s ceaseless attack

“You don’t look Valyrian?” 

“My mother...” 

“Hmm...where did you say you were from again?”

“I never said, but you must excuse me I need to find something to sooth him” he brought the babe up to their view, excusing himself as he walked to one of the food pyramids. He looked for something cool, something he had seen Lady Catelyn give his siblings. Near the salads there where long orange perfectly cut root vegetables. He picked one up and gave it to his son. The child eagerly attacked it with his moist mouth. He squealed in joy as the hard-cold vegetable rubbed his gums, temporarily soothing some of the itch. Jon swiped the babes dribble with his index finger, wiping it away on his britches.

“He is your son, isn’t he?” The woman’s voice came back. Jon frozen at her unearthing, and slowly brought his gaze up to see her. He was speechless, he didn’t know what to say or what not to say. He just blinked like a dumbstruck man. Camille leaned against the table, pondering at her thoughts.

“I’m..wait what?” he finally reacted, did he hear her correctly, he had to make sure

“He doesn’t look like her grace, because he looks like you” she reached to twirl her finger in his sons black curls.

 Jon did want to answer her, to beam in pride and declare this was his son. Instead he asked if she would like another glass, pointing at the empty cup beside her. She nodded in agreement, and Jon used it as an excuse to leave the area. He had made his way to the other side of the terrace.

The servant’s tables held the pitchers that would be passed around to refill their drinks. He grabbed one with his right hand, while holding Joreah firmly with his left arm. He began pouring Camille another glass, when he saw Tyrion. A large smile formed on the small man’s face, as he nodded discreetly to Jon. He was acknowledging he saw the babe in his arms. Tyrion continued with his foolery of entertainment. Jon was surprised Daenerys had allowed them both to mingle so freely that night, but a quick look behind Tyrion reminded him that there where many guards surrounding them.

Jon carefully juggled the refilled glass in his hand, as he made his way back to Camille.

“This is from Pentos...” she mentioned as she swirled the wine inside the cup

“How can you tell?” 

“It’s purple...” she laughed as she tilted the wine cup in front of him. The pale amber wine had a hint of a swirling purple tint. He saw her look around the terrace garden and gaze upon an overweight man with an absurd amount of embellishments plastered on him. Daario Naharis was in deep conversation with him and seemed to be entertained by whatever the merchant was showing him on his hand. She nodded towards him

“This is from his reserve” 

“Who is that?”

“Illyrio Mopatis a merchant prince” she raised her eyebrow in disgust. Camille carried on telling Jon about how their families where in constant competition for trade. Turned out that her betrothed was on his way to Pentos to come to an agreement of sorts, when his ship was commandeered by a Westerosi man who considered himself the Drowned God. Jon somehow knew she spoke of Euron, as the Iron Men prayed to that god, but he was the only one to considered himself as highly as one.

“Thank you Aegon...” he felt a warm hand brush his upper back and reach over to grab Joreah. He quickly noticed Daenerys had changed into an almost pure white dress with cutouts that bared her back and midriff. The dense draping of the lightweight fabric in her gown provided some carefully positioned coverage. At both sides of her hips and legs, only a taut layer of thin shear fabric provided some sensuous disclosure of her body's contour. He couldn’t stop staring at her, and almost refused to give his son back. His throat now suddenly thick as he tried to swallow the dry parched feeling within his throat. He felt a slight constriction inside his britches, as he watched her walk away to visit with the rest of her guests.

Jon stood idly by, silently watching as she made her way to every table. He was truly transfixed by her beauty, ignoring the constant rambling from Camille. The torches placed around the garden glowed with such a magical ambience, that she looked like a goddess in that gown. Jon saw one of the servants passing around more wine, and quickly called for a glass of the same wine he had given Camille.

 “Jon!” A familiar voice called to him

It was Alaine, she had a beaming smile plastered on her face as she neared him. He could tell she was ecstatic for him. She rapidly wedged her small body between Camille and Jon and began to jabber away about all the fine lords that had arrived.

Her favorite being a plump foreign woman from Volantis. She explained, that out of all the wealthy lady’s, she had always made sure to visit the markets. There, she would gift the beggar children sweets and foods if needed. Jon placed his hand on Alaine’s back and patted it. Somehow, he knew this story was one she had personally lived through.

Alaine began to talk with Camille, sharing stories of her interactions with the merchant vessels from Tyrosh. She began to pry if they had any more of the peppered wine that Lord Naharis was so fond of. It was a great distraction, giving Jon the opportunity to excused himself from the women and make an exit through the Great Hall. 

Torgo Nudho stood by idly by the entrance enjoying the company of his fellow unsullied. He spotted Jon, and quickly scanned the area to look for Daenerys. When he finally saw her, Jon could see the tension release from his posture and continue socializing. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge Jon any further.

He looked back at the crowd, the nagging feeling he had when the Starks held feasts was back. Loneliness began seeping into his core, and then a sudden aching feeling that he didn’t belong in her world did too. He had never felt accepted and loved from anyone including his family. He had never felt enough to just  _be, until he had met her_.

He threw himself on his bed. His large black coat had been spread on it before he decided to go without it. He pulled it over him, the soft silk underside feeling cool against his skin. The image of her face wavered in his mind. _She tilted her head towards the sell sword, looking at him with such trust._ _He wanted her, as much as he did_ , Jon had realized in that moment. It was a pang in his beating heart, as he could still smell her lovely scent when she neared him that night, but only the other man would reap those enthralling scents she methodically wore.

He took a deep breath, trying to search for the fluttering memory. The scent was strong, it was there with him. Another deep breath revealed it was not a memory, he sniffed at his shoulder, but it was nothing more than him. He began a desperate attempt to find its source, he lifted his coat to get up off the bed, when the scent lifted into the surrounding air. It was in the coat. He grabbed it and brought it to his nose, cherishing the sweet aroma. It was everything she was, strong, sweet, sensual and lush. It was deeply ingrained into the coat, not a scent that barely lingered, but one so dense that only days of constant use could provide.

He tried closing his eyes. As the night bore on and the music began to fade, the floor he stayed on had become a clatter if noise, as the most trusted servants began to retreat into their own rooms. He couldn’t sleep. He needed to be near her again. His necessity became an insatiable itch now, it was more than he had ever wanted, or needed anything or anyone. He needed to go back to her, to tell her he could never see any woman the way he saw her, felt for her or yearned. He needed to apologize over and over, because he knew deep down, he belonged with her. He had never felt any more like who he was supposed to be unless it was near her. 

 

* * *

 

 

He made his way to the many stairs that would lead him back up to the Great hall. Inside the servants passage the narrow climb would take him fifteen floors to get there. His legs throbbed from the climb and decline from earlier that day. With each subsequent step, he wished that there would have been a lift installed, just as the one on the wall. Even with all their advancements, this was one of things they lacked. That and fried potatoes.

When he finally neared the thirty second floor, he realized all was but silent. _Seven Hells!! Everyone was gone, everyone but the unsullied who watched over the entrance._  

“You not pass” one of them mention to Jon as he neared the large entry hall.

He looked around and noticed there where only two of them guarding the entrance. He hadn’t seen them earlier, he supposed they had been resting before they took the night shift. 

“ao pendagon ziry kȳvana naejot gaomagon ziry arlī?”

“daor yn kosti dōrī pāsagon zirȳla arlī”

“I will never hurt our Queen again” Jon replied. Their usual stoic faces changed to one of surprise. He for once understood what they had said. Jon was grateful that Alaine had been teaching him to speak and understand High Valyrian. Her reasoning being that Jon needed to learn to communicate with the people of the kingdom. It had never dawned on him how uncultured he had been to not learn the language back in Westeros. _How much did I miss from the lack of understanding?_   _Dracarys_  Missandeis last words rang in his head. He could’ve done something then, he could’ve done something to stop the fire she was about to rain down on earth.

As he made his way back down, his legs where shaking. Even with the years of physical labor and constant war, this had become draining. He stood at what he thought was his floor and pushed into the narrow hall. It wasn’t. Though the layouts where almost the same, the decorations where everything but. This was Naharis’s floor. He knew he should turn back, but his need to explore pulled him further in through the same long corridor. He passed the archway that led into the chambers of his personal guards and servants, he noticed no guard stood by and opted to head down to where the solar would be in this floor.  

When he arrived, it was eerily quiet. Torgo Nugho, usually had a guard placed near his door, but here only a torch flickered in the darkness, Naharis chamber had its door ajar. Jon was about to turn back, as his morality was getting the better of him. When he heard it, the guttural sounds of pleasure. He took a step closer, through the opening he could see two smooth bodies intertwined on one another.

Under the cover of the darkened solar, he moved even closer, thankful the stone floors gave no alarm of his approach. Their bodies covered in a sheer cover of precipitation. Naharis was crouched on top, ramming himself with such force into the smaller softer body beneath him. The woman had her head covered with pillows desperately trying to cover her screams. Her body was smooth, blemish less and supple. Naharis pulled out, his rigid member grazing her entrance once again. The man firmly grabbed her sides, flipping her around with such force her cover gave way.

Jon saw her, her face frozen in utter pleasure as the man pushed back in. Long silver strands sticking to her flushed face, both completely oblivious to the intruder. Jon’s heart sank, his body inescapably backing up, shaking with devastating feelings of betrayal. _How could he be so stupid to even expect Daenerys to want him back_. He wanted to throw up, he needed to go, his head spun in confusion, repulsion, and anger. He couldn’t control himself, and if he stayed a moment longer…he didn’t want to think about it.

Somehow, he had managed to find his way back, tears welling up inside of him. He balled his fists and hit the stone walls in his chamber repeatedly without thought, the only memory of it being the bloodied pulp he had left for knuckles. In his chocked-up state of mind, he let himself go, dropping to the floor on his knees. He let himself release  the inner turmoil that swirled inside of him as an agonizing painful scream that filled up his chambers.


	39. Tyrion XII

Tyrion watched as everyone around him seemed to be in a sudden daze of content. Daenerys seemed to flourish with everyone around her. Even those that held reservation towards her could not resist the gregarious atmosphere that seemed to ooze from the great hall. New and old faces seemed to float all around. Some remembering him as the hand would snicker as they passed him. Others would outright deny their knowledge of him. He preferred the sneering, as it was a reminder that he had once been someone other than a fool.

Red Roach brought him a glass of cold well water while he rested. The taste felt sweet on his parched mouth and brought him as much joy as one would get from quality reds. He had forgotten the tart refreshing taste his favorite drinks would bring him. Now preferring to drink anything but the putrid hot piss that was offered for people of his status.

He noticed Jon come in through the guest entrance, but the man was too far away to notice him below the crowds. _Hmm... he’s wearing his formal clothing, but no mark of who he is, in his all black attire._ Another guard approached Red Roach and spoke to him in their native tongue.

The men contemplated life, and how they enjoyed seeing the fruits of their labor. Tyrion thought about it, and they were right. Daenerys was the heart and soul of these lands, but the strength came from men loyal to her. All her unsullied, the Dothraki, Seconds Sons and red priests who furtively fought for a better world. They saw her as their Mysha because she guided them, gave them hope, and a chance for not just survival, but life. She was a beacon of hope, the one to bring them together.

Tyrion got up to put his cup away, noticing Daenerys was letting Torgo Nudho explain exactly how the watercourse worked. A group of investors listened closely, each trying to fully understand the grandiosity that this project could reach. When someone did not understand Torgo Nudho, she would speak to them in their native tongue, or rephrase for better understanding.

So far, he had heard two other languages he did not know she spoke. She wasn’t fluent, but she had put enough effort to show them she cared enough to learn. _She never needed me_ , he thought. _Here Daenerys does not impose herself against her people, she talks to them as equals, as individuals in a whole. The queen that was needed in Westeros, the one I had made sure never succeeded._

He glanced over at the pitchers filled with decadent elixirs that help banish painful thoughts. He reached for one, but his hand was quickly swatted away by one of the servants.

“You are not allowed to drink from these containers, her Grace will not want to make example of you tonight”

She was right. He had once proudly stated he drank and knew things, but did he really? Or was he too intoxicated to see the truth. He quietly fumed and walked away. Red Roach stood nearby pretending to not have noticed Tyrion's quick dismissal.

Tyrion looked around to find Jon, but the only sign that he was there, was a group of women that happened to walk by. Each one seemed to have something to say about the Lord dressed in all black. He chuckled to himself, _Jon probably has no idea that he has become a topic of interest._

“Red Roach I’m going to get something to eat” he announced as he made his way to the food pyramids. Suddenly he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You forget your place...you eat when you get fed"

The thought of not being able to gorge himself of the fine delicacies gnawed at his stomach, a gurgling reminder he had not ate since sunrise. A rough northern voice seemed to snap him out of his daze.  It spoke to a crowd, Tyrion edged himself as close to it as possible so he could see.

It was obvious in Jon’s demeanor, that he had commanded the attention of crowds before. He had all those around him engaged and listening. He spoke about a fitted pipe that could taper the water flow in the water course. Though in Meereen, finding an experienced blacksmith who could create intricate designs, would be hard to find. Tyrion immediately thought about the Iron Islands. Jon had recently struck trade with them, for their metal. _Could Daenerys be ready to expose herself to Westeros again?_ he doubted it. _That country had brought nothing but misery to her life._ Then again, there was Gendry, a man who owed her his name, a fine blacksmith and as honorable as Jon.

* * *

 

At some point, Tyrion found himself strumming a simple tune. He had come up with it a few days ago while playing the harp. He had been running his fingers on the chords, each playing some form of an acoustic tune. He finally had understood what Jon said, music came from the emotions he conjured up inside. It wasn't the action of rubbing your hands down the tightly wound intestines of a sheep, but the thoughts that came with loving a woman you yearned to touch.

He watched as people talked, drank, and ate. Each one bringing a different topic, another idea. Each equally learning about the other, in ways that reflected the planned unit of this new Kingdom. In another life, he would have been there mingling with these people and boasting about his intellectual knowledge. He strummed away, observing those around him. Everyone busily moving about.

Towards the back of the Terrace, Tyrion observed as Jon was being followed by finely dressed woman. Long auburn waves framed her face as they softly caressed each curve of her body. Her skin glowed a healthy radiant tan, that against her dark hair seamed to scream for a man’s touch. He saw as she picked Jon’s food, and subsequently ate what he had picked for himself. The look from his face made Tyrion bite on his tongue to not laugh.

Jon tried escaping her a few times, and even though there were plenty of tables with available seats, he chose the one that had only one. Though one could say Jon's plans never went as smooth as he would have liked. As soon as he sat, he was unlucky enough to have the seat next to him open up, giving the the woman a perfect place next to him. It was quiet a comedy to see actually.

Tyrion spotted Daenerys. Around her where some men from Quarth, distinguishable by their tall stature and pale milky skin. Tiger fur adorned their bodies and they seemed to be questioning Daenerys on the validity of her sons’ pure blood. Their voices so soft and fluid, they seemed to ease those around them. Though everything they said was insulting to say the least. She had become frustrated at them, and started to wave them away. Surprising Tyrion that she did not send them out to burn.

Tyrion managed to catch as the man dressed in a beaded samite skirt began to say “I’m sor..” but by then Daario had quickly approached, managing to interrupt him. Daenerys took that moment to make it a point to walk away. Her once calm demeanor had now heightened to an irritable one, since the Quarantheen men had approached her.

Tyrion could see she took a deep breath to calm herself, but seemed to be quickly intrigued by something. She balled her hands and opened them up a few times, similar to Jons nervous tick. Tyrion tried to follow her gaze. A few feet before her, Jon and his very frisky company sat down eating.Tyrions eyes flick from them to her and back again, Daenerys's eyes had gone dark.  The other woman flicking her auburn hair to one side in what Tyrion knew to be a conscious act. So he looks.

Dangling from her delicate ears are a string of pearls set in gold. They are exquisite, and accentuated the length of her neck. He flicked back at Daenerys, she's gone cold now, and no one but Tyrion could read what she wanted. 

"Tiny man, you can go eat now" Red Roach called out. Around them, servants seemed to be moving about and replacing food that had been left out too long. Tyrion assumed that's what he would be eating tonight. Truth be told, even with his hunger he didn't quiet care. He needed to see what Daenerys was going to do, but it was not to be. He was quickly ushered to another area.

 

* * *

 

He prodded at his plate. The red meat was fragrant and full of fat. It glistened with the sweetness of caramelized honey that coated it. Sweet prunes with chopped onions and spicy red peppers where served on the bottom. He took a bite, sweet and savory juices overwhelmed his mouth, quickly being replaced by that all familiar heat from the peppers. He had forgotten how much Daenerys loved spice on her food.

As he chewed on some of the soft fat, feeling the tiny bursts of oil melt into his mouth. An all too familiar feeling that he had this meal before, ran through his mind. He just couldn't recall exactly when. A cup filled with a decent white wine was handed to him, finally something to wash down his meal with. He swished it in his mouth, trying to grasp all its flavors. Tyrion knew this was probably his last decent drink for a while.

He smacked his lips together, letting the sweet nectar linger on them for a while before licking them clean. He could taste a hint of lime mixed in the sweet liquid. He swirled the cup. The dense honey seemed to create swirls in the lighter liquid.

Tyrion put the cup down on the circular table. Straight across him sat Red Roach, who watched him with a small smirk on his face. Somehow even with their guard prisoner relationship, he didn't feel it as ominously as before. They both seemed to be at eye level, no real distinction on who, was who, apart from their clothing.

Around him he noticed a similar theme. Round tables. Each carefully decorated with small glass jars, short sprigs of olive branches nestled inside them and surrounded by tealights. He tried to find Daenerys Table. Just like he suspected, it was at the front of the room. A long rectangular table with only one intricately decorated chair behind it. A subtle reminder of the current hierarchy in this room. Yet, it was not on a dais, and level with the rest of the crowd. The round tables in contrast, seemed to subvert the hierarchy with their subtle claims of equality, among the Lords and Ladies. Maybe the cheerful atmosphere was caused by this arrangement. She had put thought into the small details.

Tyrion tried looking for her, but her equally small stature was hard to point out from where he sat. His table began to fill with more guards, and other servants. Each of them seemingly buzzing with news, and stories of the visiting nobles. Turns out, there where even some from as far away as Sothoryos.

One of them, considered eating dog and insult. So, her grace had the meal removed from the line of food, hence they were all relishing on the outcome. It finally dawned on him, this was Hizdahr's favorite meal. I guess the food was as equally insulting as the person who loved it.

He heard the sound of a woman's yelp and looked about. 

"it’s time to go back" his guard mentioned as he stood from his seat. Tyrion took one last gulp of the wine. He got up from his chair, and tried to see what had happened, but was being ushered away. He spotted a small crowd where Daenerys stood holding her son. Next to her, the same woman that had been accosting Jon.  _Well shes still alive_  as Tyrion quickly lost sight on them.

 

* * *

 

He had a group of people entertained at this point. His colorful story of Cersei’s walk of atonement had them gasping in horror, surprise, and even some form of pity for the usurping Queen. It was interesting to see the reaction from these nobles. Many had only the knowledge of the country, but not its history. He gathered because Essos was so vast and old, with history so rich that the Essosi had not before care to know of this relatively underdeveloped new country.

“Tell us about the people who live in the North!”

“No, tell us now about the people who drown before living”

“I want to hear about how Her grace flew her dragons into battle”

“I want to hear about the boy who fell to fly”

So many stories to tell, so many different ways. Though he had become quite masterful in painting these as just stories. Then again, he was always good at talking. Painting things in such ways to make people believe it as his truths. He tried searching for Jon, he was trying to avoid him hearing his version of the Starks.

Thankfully, he spotted him. Jon was near the tables with the pitchers full of wine. In his arms was his son. He watched as Jon juggled the babe, and a large glass of an amethyst colored wine. The man looked up and made eye contact with Tyrion. He couldn’t help but smile. _The King of Westeros, a hero, a villain, and here...only a wet nurse._ He tried looking for Daenarys, _how!? when!? had she let Jon hold him?._ He was dumb struck. _This was Daenerys’s most prized possession. The only being left in this world, that could cause her to smite every living thing, if something where to happen to him._

He scanned the terrace a little more, but only spotted Daario. The man seemed to have been intrigued by something Illyrio Mopatis held in his hand. Tyrion tried to look closer. After a few dragons where exchanged, Illyrio handed it over to the man, who quickly pulled a golden dandelion medallion over his head.

The medallion shimmered with life. The lights from the nearby candles seemed to make it dance with the man’s every movement. Tyrion never would’ve thought, that this rugged man, would want a medallion of a dandelion. _It wasn't even a flower_   _Just a common weed_ , and if the gods of wisdom had blessed him with the vision to see, he realized why.

_Daario may consider this a representation of himself. A weed, who has been fighting through the challenges of life and emerging victorious on the other side. This weed, was a visual reminder of the sun with tiny yellow leaves that looked cheerful and happy. Or maybe he simply believed the silly folk tale told to children that blowing out the white puffball of seeds will grant you one wish._

He had seen Davos, plucking them from the grass a few days ago. But sure enough, under his foot, Tyrion could see he was actually stepping on a Dandelion. He moved his foot and watched the tiny yellow ball of leaves stretch out. It persisted through the abuse it had recently received. _The simple ability to deal with every kind of situation, has made them a pest for many. Except to those who understand them. Seven_ _Hells_! _I need a drink after that epiphany_.

 

* * *

 

He watched asDaenerys made her way down the marble steps. She had changed from the neutral beige gown she had previously been wearing, to a white one. Just as the first day Tyrion had seen her, she seemed to float as she passed her table. 

He didn’t think he ever saw her sit at the head table, or drink, or eat anything the whole time she had been there. In the direction she was heading was the men with the Tiger furs, and some Merchants from Pentos. Jon stood near them, once again accompanied by the auburn hair accoster. From afar it could have seemed the child was theirs, as they both stood staring in the opposite direction that Daenerys was coming from. He felt like an intruder, but he had nothing else to do but watch.

For the most part, he had a decent view of things going on. He saw as Naharis came up to one of his guards and exchanged a couple words, before sending him off, Daenerys hand maiden speaking to a larger woman dressed in a blue gown with tufts of white fur, and how for the first time Torgo Nudho seemed to be enjoying company from those around him.

He could also see how Daenerys's face could still manage to hide her emotions so well. Though he knew her well enough to know she was withholding unease behind her pleasant smile. 

His jaw hurt from all his talking, and his mouth parched from lack of water. Together, they joined the piercing pain that throbbed in his head. He tried to fabricate stimulating topics to cover, running out of way to avoid sensitive subjects... _was this how fools went mad?_  

Once his own voice had brought him joy, but now it was nothing but a burden to him. His ability to know things, his fantastical tales, and failure to keep things to himself had granted him this punishment. 

He watched as Jon adjusted his pants, uncomfortably. His eyes glued on his Queen. She was making her way to her visitors, and in their midst her Lord Commander. Jon’s already dark eyes seemed to have swallowed the night sky as he saw Daenerys near Naharis. Tyrion understood how Jon felt, he had felt that way once. When he could only watch, as his Queen first opened the cabin door for Jon. Suddenly a sense of guilt washed over him.

* * *

 

The night wore on, and the crowds had begun to disperse. Jon had left a while ago, leaving the woman who followed him around to find another suitable match. The son of some high lord, who was dressed in golden garbs and had sapphires as eyes. Quietness began to wash over the hall, as the servants moved quickly to clean up. It was becoming easier to hear their conversations as well as spot people’s positions.

He fixed his attention back on Daario and Daenerys. Her usual composure now struggling to discretely hide her fatigue. She tilted her head on Daario, nestling her face into his arm and yawning. This prompted Daario to give her a slight nudge.

It was enough to cause her to look up at him blinking in confusion. In her arms Joreah slept peacefully, as peaceful as the girl who should have been watching him. Daario rubbed the back of his index finger on the babes cheek and looked up in the direction of Daenerys’s apartment.

“Don’t worry, he’s gone now” he comforted her.

“Thank you, Lord Naharis”

“Anything for you my grace” he rubbed the top of her back, as she pulled away.

On her way up the steps, Daenerys noticed Alaine sleeping on a lounge chair. Making her way back down, to carefully nudged her awake. Tyrion couldn’t hear what she said, but she followed Daenerys upstairs. She opened the door for her, but the Queen motioned for her to go in first.

Tyrion could see as Daenerys scanned the room one last time. Her eyes lingering where she had last seen Jon. Not once did she seem to notice Tyrion, or that he was still playing the harp. Somehow, he had become a part of the building. Only observing everything around him, just as Bran had done.

He watched as Daario approached him. A smile plastered on his face. His hands rubbing the medallion he had purchased from Mopatis.

“I must say you’ve got better at playing that” the man smirked

“Yes, I do agree” he needed to thank Jon, whenever he saw him again.

Daario pulled a chair  up next to Tyrion and joined his watch.

“How long have you been here?”

“Here? Not too long but there? a few hours” He pointed at a nearby platform.

The man smiled and ran his medallion between his fingers, behind them and on their tips. Tyrion stopped playing and turned to fully look at Daario. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to

“I think I miss the old man” Daario turned to look at him.

Tyrion raised his head up to see the night sky. Stars sparkling above them, surrounding them like the fresh cool air that seemed to only come at this time. Tyrion raised himself, only making a small difference in height, and patted Naharis on the back.

“I know...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can post Aryas right after this one if anyone is interested in it while I finish wrapping up the Dany chapter. Or I can post it between Daenerys and Jon’s chapter to keep it going while you wait for the Jon chapters.


	40. Daenerys XII

It laid there, motionless, but it wasn’t dead. The dragon was curled around itself, with steam rising from its nose. It was the only sign of life, as the sun began to rise. She sucked in a sharp breath of the dusty air, suddenly thick and sulfuric as she stepped towards it. Daenerys stretched her arms as far as she could around the beast, embracing his shiny ebony scales that burned to the touch. In his mouth more than two hundred vallums of bone for teeth, that could easily slice through any armor. Its opponents usually found that they were always inadequate on their defense.

He isn't alone now either, casting her eyes downward there are the eggs.  The same iridescent black color, but with a mottling of green and pearl, carefully clutched under its enormous claws. Daenerys never even daydreamed she would see this side of Drogon, now she didn’t have to. 

From the distance they looked like stone, hard, lifeless and cold, but in her hands, there is no doubt at all. The warmth they emitted proved that inside, writhing, and squirming would be life.  Spitting images of the behemoth before her. She had no plan, or any notion of what to do next, so she had momentarily given them back to her son.

Drogon moved his head, carefully nuzzling his mother, and bringing his eyes level with her face. In those folds of thick skin, was a tiny burning red orb, with an intensity that washed her with love. Any other being would run, try and fight, or freeze. They mostly froze every time, and she always had a front row seat to their sudden end.

He blinked, his backbone flexing, moving his leathery wings to let her on. To her he was no more threatening than her Silver. With one sideways flick that mountain sized skull nudged her toward his wing. She couldn’t tell what happened next, but everything jumbled in her head. Her breathing picked up, the feeling of restraint wanting to break free, to feel the cold gust against her face, but all she could see was the burning, the screaming, the stench of blood, sulfur and charred bones. As Daenerys grabbed onto Drogon’s wing, she could feel the warm smooth leather against her tiny hands.

“I’m not ready” she whispered to him.

She came back around to where he clutched the eggs. As she crouched down to touch them, she could hear a rumble inside of Drogon’s throat.

“I know…” she patted the underside of his throat. She knew what she had to do. She thought of her dream, and what Jon had said about the stone men. Their nest had been made of blood from the stone men, and fire from their burning corpses.

“Torgo Nudho, please bring me Aegon”

 

* * *

 

His face was drained with a gaunt expressionless stare.  The same sorrowful face she had once seen, as her vision went black. His dark eyes glossy and his face was blotchy and drained of its color, submissive to her call. His dark hair, now normally neatly brushed, bore the signs that his weathered hands had been run through it in distress. It was the image of a man who had lost a battle of some sort.

“Your grace?” he tried to avoid looking at her.

She sat on her ebony bench, high above him. The small windows, gave way to bright rays of light that cast elongated squares onto the sleek stone floor. The light bouncing off on to the several columns in the room which decorated the otherwise simple hall. He blinked a few times, in an attempt to help his eyes adjust to the lighting directed right at her figure.

“I’d like to discuss a few matters with you” she began.

He only stood there, unreadable. There was no anger, no sadness, no joy or resentment. He never even appeared to be interested as she sat on that bench. That at least would have been something. For all the presence she brought into the room, she might as well have been another stone pillar.

“are you feeling ill?”

“no, your grace” he looked up at her, subconsciously clasping his hands over his lower abdomen. She tended to do that herself when she felt, nervous or vulnerable but had to display poise as well. She couldn’t recall doing anything that may have imposed this sudden feeling from him.

“Very well…The eggs...when you found them, was the earth still hot?”

“somewhat” he adjusted his hands to a tighter grip.

She saw his marred hands, bright red skin against the shining white of his knuckles. She couldn’t recall if Daario had any similar marks on his face or body.  Suddenly, her head began to throb.   _Not again Jon_.  She didn’t want to have to get involved in their childish rivalry, but what precedence would she set if she stood idly by ignoring it.

“your hands?”

“it’s just a minor injury your grace” he moved his hands to cross behind him instead. Looking away as he took a deep breath.

“how?”

“I’m sure you didn’t beckon me to ask about my hands” he said in a dry irritable voice. She couldn’t help but flutter her eyelids in an attempt to grasp his petulance, but he was right, there was the matter of the eggs to discuss. 

She stood up and walked down the steps to get closer to Jon. Maybe this would make him feel more apt to engaging with her.

“Ae..Jon, I will need you to show me where you found the eggs” 

Jon scrunched his eyebrows.

“I can show you on a map how to get there” he said in a very concise manner

“I’m glad you can do that, but we will be taking my ship” she told him in an informative tone, trying to not recreate the same scenario that led to their yearning for each other.

“I’m sure Lord Naharis will be able to get you there safely in a fortnight” his voice curt and detached

She began to think back of what may have transpired for him to become this way. _Could that woman of had anything to do with it_? She tried to put her thoughts aside. It shouldn’t matter to her, But it did.

“Did you hear me wrong? I said WE are taking my ship, your cartography knowledge can be used then”

His eyes shot to look at her. They were not expectant to any form of flattery, or explanation of why she would rather choose to use a Galley than her Dragon, they were of acquiescence. She turned to look at Torgo Nudho after a brief moment at trying to read the prickly man.

“Torgo Nudho?”

“Your grace?”

“How long would it take to get our fastest ship ready”

“Your ships are always at your call your grace”

“Then we sail at day break” she took another look at Jon.

He bowed his head and quickly turned to walk away in complete silence. 

“I do not recall dismissing you Lord Targaryen”

She watched him buckle at her words. Slowly he turned back around to look in her direction. He would not meet her gaze, he avoided it.

“Is Lady Scallanti waiting for you? I do not seem to recall there being any visitors from Tyrosh today” 

She glanced at her guards, noticing a notable twitch in Jon's face.

“Your grace, we have no Lords or Ladies from Tyrosh today”

“Then I see no need of impatience from you” she was not going to accept his impertinence. Unsure what had got into him, she prodded him more.

“Must I remind you Jon... of why it is that you are here?”

“No, your grace, I am more than aware of my reasons for imprisonment”

She felt her lips curl, as her eyebrow began to twitch. She watched as he tried to swallow something in his throat, fisting his right hand in a repetitive motion. _You think your imprisoned?_ Yes, he was her prisoner. . she hated the reminder. Her jaw quickly tightened at the thoughts.

“Guards? take this man to his room...he will need to get ready” her stomach roiled in unease having to use this tone.

 

* * *

 

“This is not up for discussion Daario”

Her voice seemed to bounce off every wall in her solar. The room let in enough light pass the solid wood partitions, casting a warm glow in an otherwise cold room. There were furs laid around the floor near where she sat. Joreah was busily trying to tip one of the eggs over with his hand since she had brought them back inside.

The man in front of her seemed frustrated at what she had just told him. The last time she had left, she was murdered, and by the same man she was planning on traveling with. 

Daario stood up and began to pace the room. He twisted the ends of his beard while he walked over to the partition that led out to her terrace. She watched him carefully. Studying every exposed part of his skin. Daenerys walked up next to him, she understood his apprehension, but it was something that had to be done.

“Daenerys, I truly care for you and will do anything for you. But this does not mean I can sit by and pretend that this does not bother me” he tilted his head to look down into her eyes, his face was rested and bright. He ran his soft hands, through her loose silver waves, pulling any loose strands away from her face, and pulled her into a soft embrace.

She held him back. Her constant feelings of anguish seemed to placate. She needed that moment. One where she could feel safe, loved, and appreciated, but it wasn’t the kind of embrace one would relish from a lover. It was the kind where two people who had once been young, immature, and not lacking any form confidence, had grown to care for the other. There was no fighting or tears. There was no drama. They were just two adults coming to terms on how things where. Nothing more, nothing less. And you know what? That’s okay. It was realistic. It was life. But it was anticlimactic. He gave her a small peck on the forehead and turned to leave. As he did, she noticed a faded bruise hiding underneath his red scarf. 

“Daario?”

He turned to see her. He was crouched down to twirling Joreahs little curls, but all she could do was give him a faint smile. It was an unstated thank you that he understood.

* * *

The boarding plank creaked under her steps. She used to dream of sailing west, that it would bring her destiny to fruition. Now her stomach coiled in hesitation. Daenerys made her way into the main deck, turning to look at the rest of the bay. Subconsciously she felt her hand reaching to feel her scar. It was fully healed, the silver pink skin taught under her gown. 

Behind her, the crew was busily loading the rest of the food for their trip. Above, Drogon flew high in the clouds circling the two Galleys that would make their voyage. The boats bobbed and creaked, tugging on their moorings, ready to take their own flight.

The last of the items were loaded. The crew scurried by, lifting the plank and setting the masts. Below them, Daario stood by waiting to give signal to untie them from the moorings. 

“Your grace the ships are ready at your call”

She stood watching everything around her. Trying to gain the courage to make the call. In her arms Joreah tugged at her gown, excitement bore through his face as he saw his brother in the sky. Daenerys eyes began to well up, if not for Drogon, she would not be there. She couldn’t deny him of the same joy, the same need for family.

“Tell the men to raise the anchor and push off”

The command was given, and she could hear the metal clanging as it rose from the sea. Daarios voice could be heard on the docks, and the immediate sway from the release of the ropes followed. Daenerys turned around to make way to her cabin, in the process lightly bumping into Jon.

“I do apologize your grace” he moved out of the way to let her pass. She was too lost in her own thoughts of gloom to try and juggle Jon’s current state of disengagement. The silence between them was as thick, snuffing out any other thoughts that could come between them.

She nodded and carried on to her destination. From her peripheral view, she could see him staring off into the docks as a large gust of wind rustled the masts above them. The three headed dragon sail shook and flapped above. Both of them turned to look up, catching glimpses of each other doing so, distracted by their sigil bright against the burning sunset. 

“Your Commander isn’t joining us?” He finally spoke, but she did not turn her gaze to him. 

“He is to keep the Kingdom safe in my absence” She said as she walked away into the direction of her grand cabin.

“I hope you do not take after his broodiness” she jokingly told her son, who just cooed in response.

* * *

 

“We pass Black Hills and go around Isle of Cedars” both Torgo Nudho and Daenerys where discussing the quickest route to Old Valyria. The winds would be in their favor if they kept near the coast line.

“Would our unsullied be able to hold off any attack from Tolos?” She asked Torgo Nudho as she tapped her finger on the spot in the map of the land she spoke of.

“Lord Naharis has men there...and in Elyria as well”

“Yes, he let me know of it the morning we left...” she sighed

“I thought the Kingdoms folded to your rule willingly?” asked Jon 

“For the most part...Lord Naharis has made every effort that my fate not be a topic of interest” she looked Jon up and down, from where she stood.  Ire suddenly accumulated inside of her chest. Tolos, Mantarys and Elyria had been very vocal about their resistance against a whore. Now in their eyes she had birthed a child who could bring uncertainty to the Kingdom and was seen as weak from the rumors of her demise in Westeros. She cleared her throat and gazed back to the map.

“If a primitive country like Westeros could overthrow me...it can only give birth to other ideas”

She could see Jon shift in uneasiness from across the table. Torgo Nudho stood closer to her and placed a couple pieces over the map. 

“You were not overthrown...you were murdered” he reminded her as he glared at Jon, moving the pieces around. Jon could only clear his throat with unease.

“If they sense weakness...I only have one dragon, and Tolos has the best slingers in Essos”

“Slingers?” Jon seemed confused, he probably thought they were the usual hand-held ones.

“Like scorpions, but instead have lead balls” Torgo Nudho explained to the Westerosi

“Thankfully rumors of my death and the destruction of Kingslanding have been circulating simultaneously...fear still strikes the cities that did not willingly ally themselves...and of course Im still alive”

“Her grace cannot lose Drogon, we will navigate as far as we can with such precious cargo on ship, red god was generous once” Torgo Nudho spoke about Joreah. He moved the pieces to show where they could use the known local breezes to navigate.  During this season hurricanes where common between the crossing waters of Slavers bay and the Gulf of Grief. Staying as close to shore was a smart move in the case of one.

 

* * *

 

                                                                 

The ship carved its way west through the water. Soon the cliffs began to rise dramatically out of the sea. Pummeled by rollers from the Gulf of Grief and powerful winds, the cliffs had been eroded into dramatic shapes over thousands of years. Hundreds of hollows and rock shelves carved out by the sea, litter the cliffs face and provided safe nesting places for migrating sea birds. All the while in the deep waters of Slavers Bay, whales, dolphins and seals search for the plentiful fish found there.

As they passed the boundless black sea stack, they got to see some of these creatures up close. Huge avian colonies had clustered to make their home there. Plunging from death defying heights into the white capped waters. Emerging victorious with mouth full of silver flopping treasures.

“Its nesting season for the creatures” Her Commander of war told her as he made way to the foredeck of the ship. 

She had been admiring the grand view in front of her, even if it was not the first time viewing the cliffs by sea. Yet she still felt the need to admire the spectacle from an entirely different angle each time. From below, the cliffs towered above them majestically. The only sounds being the screech of seabirds, Drogon and the crashing of waves against their base.

She pointed to a whale that was near the surface on the starboard side of the Galley. The barnacle covered beast seemed to relish the early morning sunlight. White spray erupted from the creature as it made the surface. Producing a piercing cry of laughter that erupted from her son. She herself couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the moment.

When the laughter settled, she let out a sigh. All seemed good and sweet in those fleeting moments. Her salt licked hair waved aimlessly in the light breeze, as a warm burning, prickly sensation began to crawl down her back, searing through her skin. 

She turned to look around her, she was alone. No. She knew this feeling. It was the kind you could only feel when someone had been watching you from a distance. She looked around again, this time above her. There standing near the railing of the quarter deck stood Jon.

He wasn’t looking at her at the moment, but somehow, she knew he had been watching. She turned back around to keep talking with Joreah. From the corner of her eyes she could see Jon turn back to look at them.

Love. Hate. Love. Hate. Two constant feelings that circled inside of her brain. They didn’t just work one way around, it was a constant battle. It was not only love of another, there was also her love of nature. Her love for humanity. Her love for her Sons. And Jon. And herself. She had to admit it, she just wanted love, to give love and to feel it reciprocated.

But there was something else to play. Forgiveness. It would be a long path, but a worthy one, as Alaine had taught her. And forgiveness of others was far easier to attain once you have forgiven yourself. Maybe, to get there, she needed to forgive herself. 

 _How?_ was the question. She hated herself for loving him. How could she still feel for a man who had mortally wounded her? How could she look at her son and tell him she loved the man who killed him? 

She glanced back up to look at Jon, catching him in the act. She had expected to see his current state of detachment, but instead was met with misted eyes. It was the Jon she loved. The one who caused her self-loathing. She broke contact and began to walk away, hearing him curse to himself.

“I’m sure you will be joining us for morning fast this time Lord Aegon?” but she didn’t wait for a response.

* * *

 

He had kept himself a recluse the first few days. Only emerging because Torgo Nudho grew weary of his isolation. The Master of War had been adamant that being isolated can make men more aggressive and fearful of others, something he had seen firsthand. Since he didn’t want an incident to occur because of Jon’s constant brooding, he locked him out of his quarters until he had enough sun. 

Gull eggs, dog sausage, half a cup of sweetened wine mixed with the juice of a lime. Buttered bread and a sliced melon. Finally, here, the honey did not draw flies. A smile rose from here lips as she thought of the defeated pests.

She had barely even noticed Jon taking a small cautious bite at the sausage. She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. He must have caught her staring at him as he turned to look up at her.

“It’s not hot” his voiced seemed surprised

“No... it’s not”

“What is it? It’s not pork” he chewed slowly trying to figure it out

“It’s dog” she told him in a matter of fact tone

She could see him choke, and quickly wash it down with the sweetened wine concoction. She chuckled and gave Joreah a slice of melon to suck on.

“You’re not serious, are you?” He looked at her for assurance. Catching his breath after the drink.

She took a bite of the sweet fatty sausage. Relishing the tender dark meat’s tangy gamey flavor.  He didn’t seem amused.

“Yes, it’s dog, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it” she tried to be reassuring to him.

“I can’t bring myself to eat this” 

“You’ve been eating it since you’ve been in Essos, you have probably had rat too if you stayed at that brothel” she could feel the repulsion in her voice. Since when has he behaved this way.

She saw him start to turn green at the thought. But she could only roll her eyes at his dramatics. She cut up some more of her sausage, and drizzled honey on the smaller bites. 

“For a man that has gone through so much, you would think you could handle something as simple as food” her eyebrow raised at him, silently judging his childlike behavior.

She stabbed the meat with her fork and handed it to him. 

“If you can eat that god-awful rancid stew at Castle Black, I’m sure you can gather enough courage to eat this”

He took the fork, swallowing the meat as quickly as it went it. She couldn’t help but smirk at him, and a small laugh erupted from his usually pouting lips. It was aimed at the ridiculous situation he had set himself up on.

She finished her fast sooner than Jon did, and excused herself to sit on the window bench under the wrap around glass windows. Some of the glass panes where clear, others had small bubbles, and some small ripples inside that let the light filter into her grand cabin. Inside, the cabin was decorated in a special array of handicrafts and textiles from Lys, Tyrosh and around Dragons Bay. It glowed with warmth as the light bounced of the shiplap interior.

Daenerys pulled up a fur throw for more warmth. It was of a dense black fur, with think white vertical stripes. She snuggled into the soft fur and closed her eyes as it caressed her cheek. It still smelled of the North, with a strong woody scent that should have repulsed her, instead filling her with comfort. She hugged the throw a little tighter and rolled herself and Joreah into it, enclosing them in its warmth. She had been taking it to sleep with them every night now, and would drape it across them in the chilly mornings on the Galley. Joreah was happily cooing away, oblivious to his parents.  

“Is that my shadowcat throw?” Jon asked her, amused she would be using it

She blinked as she turned to look at him. The Black Cliffs spread out behind her. She was too satisfied with her food to move much right now, so she only tilted her head forward and smiled coyly at him.

“I had my handmaidens pack my most used possessions…I guess this was one?” her nose scrunching as her eyes creased from her smile

Jon’s lip slightly twitched and got up from the table, he hid a smile well, but his eyes gave it away. He quietly made his way to the window bench, standing behind them to view the majestic sights. His hands where placed behind his back as he leaned forward to get a better view.  A flock of white birds flew past them, plunging themselves in unison into the waters below. She could see his face soften as Joreah desperately tried to reach for them. Banging his pudgy hands on the clear glass panes in front of him.  

“It’s truly a grand sight” he finally admitted

“yes, I’m glad the shipwright had the wrap around windows made when he built her”

“What was it named?”

“Tȳne ābrar…”

“Two lives?”

She looked at him inquisitively. He understood her, well sort of, but the effort was there. A flutter in her stomach rose up to her chest spreading in a low heat. He had been learning her language. Her eyelashes fluttered against her will and quickly looked away from him.

“Second Life…Lord Naharis thought it appropriate to name this ship that”

She sensed Jon’s mood change again. Subconsciously running his hand through his hair and coarsely rubbing the nape of his neck. He let out a breath of air and turned to look at her. His eyes dark and flat once again.

“oh, was that now?” she could see he was only being polite, not truly caring why Lord Naharis had decidedly named her ship.

“He was able to scrounge up parts of my old ships. Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar, giving them new lives…after their deaths”

“He seems quite worthy of you” his voice surly and flat

Daenerys closed her eyes. _There it was, jealousy_. _His change happened after the feast_. The whole time she had been thinking he had been enamored by Lady Scallanti. She couldn't hold in a small smile that curled her lip in the faintest way possible.

“Jon…what we have, Lord Naharis and I…”

She didn’t know how to put it into words. She trusted Daario Naharis. She wanted him to remain in her life. He was her confidant, a supportive presence, a part of her past that had not been shattered by her actions. He reminded her of who she was, who she could be, and what she could achieve. But she did not love him the way he had loved her, and for the first time, she could say that she believed he had come to understand that.

“is an unbiased alliance brought forth by years of tribulations and triumphs”

“does that include sleeping with each other?”

She choked in disbelief. He was too forward, and fully intrusive. It was unclear if his mannerisms were due to ignorance or with the intent to be objectionable. She raised her eyebrow, her disbelief was off the charts, but honestly, she had to say, the cynicism in their lives had come to the point of even suspecting the sincerity of even the biggest cynics. But she owed him no explanations, nothing, not since the moment he thrust that dagger into her beating heart. _Hate_.

“Excuse yourself from my cabin Lord Aegon. I suggest better behavior from you the next time we see each other… as I have no time for your insolence right now”

As he left, she turned back to her view. It had been soured now. She wondered what she would’ve done if Joreah had never been born. _Would I have loved Jon the same way?_ _Would he be able to get under my skin so easily?_   She certainly would never allow such insolent behavior. She would have had his head the moment she saw the man. Or was she being honest with herself? _Why does he affect me so much?_ She rubbed her left hand on her forehead. _What would even give him the idea to even question my relationship with Daario?_ maybe Torgo Nudho was right, he needed some fresh air, as did she.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapters will have them confront their emotions and well see some reconciliation
> 
> also if there is anything youd like to see happen apart from certain deaths etc let me know


	41. Arya III

Arya opened her eyes, the constant rocking now seemed jerked and laborious. A stinging hot sensation seemed to radiate from her neck. Arya twisted her body around, the motion sending a sudden rush for seawater to come spraying out from inside her mouth. She heaved, trying to catch her breath and pushed herself up.

Her fingers burned, and most of her fingertips where bloodied and peeling.   
Arya looked around the small life boat. The mare laid panting, exhaustion seeped through her pores and excreted as a filmy white foam on her neck.

  
Arya straightened herself and saw the lifeboat was wedged between dark green plants and sand. She looked around, her body sore and stiff. She licked her lips, they were salty with a tang of iron from her chapped lips. She was thirsty.

  
“Where in the bloody seven hells am I at?” She turned to look at the mare, but got no response.

  
It looked like she was in Braavos, If Braavos had been wiped clean and started anew. She looked around the other side of the boat, clear pristine waters rocked the small boat side to side. She took a deep breath and let the fresh salty breeze drift through her nose and into her lungs. She jumped out of the boat and into the sand, pulling the vessel as far in as she could.

  
“Aye you fucking horse get off don’t you think?” Once again no response from the animal. Her months out at sea had gifted her with the same linguistics as her fellow sailors. 

  
She walked around and splashed water onto the animal. It stirred and scrambled up. The white beast, made a swift jump out onto the sand, but it was obvious she has still injured on her leg. Arya grabbed the animal, and rubbed down the leg that seemed to be distressed. It looked fine, no bruises, cuts or scrapes. She had probably strained it during the storm.

She finished pulling the boat completely out of the water and far enough into the land that the waves wouldn’t take it. Arya took another look around. Strange bird songs called out, and a loud constant buzzing whirring song that only insects could make, surrounded the dense jungle in front of her. She instinctively checked her side, and felt hilt of needle. It was still there.

  
“Well I guess we are walking” with a deep breath she pulled on the mares resigns.

  
Together they walked along the edge of the beach. It was isolated, empty, and the long arched stretches of gorgeous white sand went off into to the distance. The horse slowly trotted behind her, a steady limp slowing her down.

Straight ahead, Arya could see a towering peak. It was dense with flora and covered in what seemed to be a thick mist at the top. It looked surreal. A dark green presence against the crystalline blue, green waters, and white sand. It was something she had not seen before. Never like this. 

  
She scanned the gnarled mossy cloud forest ahead. She needed to get to a better view of the area. So she continued to pulled on the mare, trudging their way in the sand. Silver fish darted back and forth, in. The clear waters. They where long and as graceful as needle was in her hand. She stepped closer to see. The sun reflecting off their scales looked like liquid silver in the water.

Porous stones lined the beach, mixing their presence within the soft sand. To her right, a thick grove of trees with roots that stood out of the ground. The rays from the sun, seemed to barely pierce through their thick, woody trunks. Their rooted trunks looked to be somehow connected directly or indirectly to the primary trunk. Arya thought if someone took a weirdwood, and propped it with its roots out of the ground, this is what it would look like. Except the leaves seemed to be large, leathery, glossy, green, and almond shaped, with pale roots that spread down from their branches to cover a wider area. They seemed to invite her in, singing with sounds of all the creatures that hid under their shaded cover. No, these were not her trees.

  
Arya could feel a heaviness in her hair. As short as it was, the salt water had coated it sticky. It had allowed sand and wind to ruffle it to un-tamable naps. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted shiny black feathers with white tipped tails, and golden eyes. _Ravens_? but once their longer, more pointed beaks opened, a melodious call echoed in the canopy, causing a flutter of black wings with white tips that lifted into the sky. 

  
She stood and watched in awe, as life seemed to burst from the dense foliage. A small olive brown bird, with a short tail and a down curved bill, scuttled by. Its wings where chestnut with darker spots and red eyes. She had never seen such a creature, but she was sure it was a hen.

Arya encountered many other birds on her way up to the mountain top. Red tailed birds, shiny green and blue with white chests, and around the coast line nestled against the rocks, a larger white bird with a black mask around its eyes and black strips on their wings and tail. Each with a different call, or tune that infiltrated the skies.

  
A soft green ground cover, adorned the plateau, along with other lush land plants. They had rigid, woody tissues and leaves that trailed like ruffles down their tubes. Other delicate flowers with blooms that where colorful and fragrant, peppered the ground. She tried thinking the last direction the Nymeria was sailing. Winds had picked up from the north, pushing the galley in a southern direction. She was west, that she knew. 

  
She looked back at the mare, she didn't look spooked by her surroundings. They had managed to walk what looked to be five hundred yards of spectacular views, and into palm groves and mangrove thickets that led into a thickly wooded valley that climbed up a steep, rocky hillside. Her legs began to chafe from the sticky sand covered clothing she wore. What seemed to have been a slow incline from far away proved to be anything but. The mist had turned to thick dense clouds that covered the top of the peak, or peaks as she soon came to discover.

The Island was a few leagues longs, but not as wide wide, and as she stood on highest part she could get too on one of the peaks the furthest away. She thought it looked like a crescent moon. The shape of the smile Jon would put on her face, with its tips pointing up towards the sunrise. Maybe she was looking at it wrong, maybe it wasn't a smile, and more of a frown as it would start pointing to the sunset. Along its ridges, it was dotted with reefs and the rocky ledges along the peaks. She felt a slight breeze, the same one she felt on the Nymeria, the same wind that blew almost every day.  She couldn't tell from which direction it came, was it from the north? east? or was it coming from the West? she felt it pick up a little, this was coming from the south? it was gentle. All the winds except the one from the south where strong, and because of this her galley was pushed into this direction. 

 

                                                                                          

She stood beneath some palms, as the dense clouds had moved to the other peak letting the sun come blaring down on her face. As she rested against curved trunks, she noticed round green pods laid scattered on the ground near their shoots. She picked one of them up and studied it. It was heavy, almost the sizeof a mans head. She weighed it, and suddenly the vivid feeling of her fathers death crossed her mind. She could hear the whoosh from Ice calling out to her in the air. She suddenly threw it out of anger, but the pod just bounced. She grabbed another, this one seemed to be splitting from its green husk. She tried prying it open with her hands in anger, but it proved difficult to do so. With plenty of force, she brought it down against the rocks that jutted from the side of the hill. 

"OW!...bloody shit"

Her hand had slipped and smashed against the jagged rock, she tried licking her fingers, but she was so thirsty there's was no more saliva. She looked at the pod in her hand, even more anger rose from inside of her. She had not gone on this expedition, to lose her ship, her men, and have her horse become lame in the process. She was stuck, in an unknown island, with nothing but a lame horse and needle. 

  
She pulled needle out of its sheath and slammed it hard against the green skin on this nut. It felt exhilarating, so she did it again, and again, then harder, and faster until a large flake shot off. She brought needle down once more, half expecting it to only shave off another flake, instead a milky white fluid splashed everywhere. She picked up the green nut, rotating it and carefully moving her fingers out of the way. She stuck her tongue out and licked at the liquid. It was sweet, and cool. She needed more. Arya grabbed the nut tightly between both of her hands raised above her head and brought it down hard on the jagged rock from before. The shell cracked opened, and the precious white liquid came splashing out. She peered inside the hollow nut, a swallow or two are left inside. So she pressed the nut to her mouth and lapped up whats left eagerly. She stuck her finger inside the crack, and scratched at the white jelly substance inside. She began pulling it out with her nails. She tasted it. 

  
"would you look at that! its better than a whores arse" she told the mare, who had been busily eating some sprouts of grass that shot out from the ground. In her sudden rage, she hadn't realized the sun was beginning to set. 


	42. Jon XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter for those that want the talk. 😉

Jon watched as white knuckles from clenching his fist too hard began to form. He gritted his teeth in an effort to remain silent. He could feel his usually erect posture hunched over in animosity, with an acidic burn, slicing, and potent pain that made his stomach hurt. His face now red with suppressed rage, and when a guard even placed a hand on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped.

He pushed the young guard out of the way, snapping his spear in half and stormed back inside Daenerys’s cabin. He saw her jump from his sudden burst into her cabin, her eyes flicking back and forth to the door and to him. She clutched onto their son, holding him tightly against her chest. Fear first flashing in her eyes, and then her maternal instincts kicking in and standing up to move their child out of harm’s way.

Everything was moving so quickly, he could hear as the guard starting to scamper towards her cabin.

“Daenerys…”

“Get out now Jon”

“No! not until you admit you are sleeping with Naharis”

“Have you gone mad!?” she yelled at him

He felt a sharp stinging pain across the back of his legs and found himself face down on the galley floors. Spears quickly thrust near his face. There were times his brain would fire up. It's was no excuse he knew. He knew his own behavior.

“admit it Daenerys, I’ve already seen you” He grunted in pain as his hands where tightly held behind his back. He had tried to be understanding, to be virtuous, and then a trigger was flicked.

“Snow” the scuff of boots came near him, and all spears quickly rose away from his face. His emotions turned cold, fearful, anxious and he would back away, flee or strike out. In those moments he was least proud of who he was, for he failed to be the person he wanted to be. Tears pooled in his eyes, his chest constricting as he felt the tightness he held back.

Daenerys had placed their son in his cot, bundling him up in Jon's furs. He felt as Torgo Nudho yanked him up, letting Daenerys near his agitated state. In her eyes anger, resentment, and concern shown through. She placed her hand on his tear stained cheek. He could see her struggling a battle of her own, unsure what to do with him. He winced in pain from the position of his twisted arms. She sighed in relent, her eyes fluttering as she did.

“Please leave us” she told her men. He could feel the hesitation from Torgo Nudho, but with a look of trust from Daenerys he let his arms go. Jon felt his body slump back to his knees.

“I be outside” he let her know

She nodded at him and turned her attention back to Jon. Kneeling down in front of him, she cupped the sides of his face, wiping his tears away with her thumbs.

“Jon, I have no idea what you are talking about…” he saw her pale purple eyes gaze into his eyes, flicking back to each part of his face, trying to find something, anything that could help figure him out.

“Dany please…I know I don’t deserve you, but don’t let me think I’m crazy to feel I can ever have you back”

Her eyes began to turn a light shade of pink around its edges, misting with every second that seemed to pass by.

“Jon…” she lightly shook her head, and stroked his hair back out of his face

“I love you Dany…even if that means I can never have you again” it was to be his eternal damnation for the sin he had committed against his own blood.

Her breath hitched and began to stand up as a tear slowly rolled down her left cheek. Jon immediately shot out his hand to grab hers and pull her back down to him. He couldn’t get up, the realization he had been struck across the back of his legs hard enough to render him temporarily immobile was instant.

Daenerys didn’t struggle, but her soft sobs pierced through Jon heart, as he had done to her so long ago. He pulled her into his chest and palmed the back of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender he had grown so accustomed to. He looked up to see his son, using his two stubby legs to push himself up to babble at the sight of them. Jon held Dany tightly in his arms, kissing the top of her head, and lightly grabbing her chin to turn her to look up at him.

“I haven’t been with any man…since…you” Her eyes darted between his. Not because she doubted that he believed her words, he could see it, as it was obvious in the way it pained her to say it out loud. But because she knew he needed her to look at him, to show him her eyes were only for him. _Her eyes, unmistakable to any other he had ever seen, not even...not even Myrrai._ How could he have been so stupid. There where no unsullied that night on Naharis's floor, no guards, completely empty.

He slowly lowered his head down to her, his forehead almost touching hers. He paused, giving them a small gap in case she wasn’t ready, but she craned her neck to close the gap between them. Their lips met, the warmth of hers sending sparks through every inch of his body. His chest expanded and swelled with every fervorous beat of his heart. He trembled as he delved deeper into the kiss. He could taste the sweetness of her mouth, an intoxicating taste that she had finally allowed him access to.

He could feel her still under his hold, her chest tightening at his taste. He pulled her in again, opening his eyes slightly to graze her delicate features. He placed his hands firmly around her back and under her legs. Painfully lifting himself upwards with her. He didn’t release her, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t part from her lips. Still holding her and relishing this moment he moved them over to the edge of the bed, laying her down with such delicacy, she sighed into his mouth, and he felt a flutter in his heart at the sound of her.

Her eyes opened up, and he pulled slightly away from her. He took the sight of her in, her lips trembling, her chest rising with every deep and short breath she took. It was the complete opposite of their last kiss, the one which had ended in her death. He closed in again and nipped at her lower lip, egging her to let him in again. She groaned at his gesture and parted her puffed pink lips for him, no longer stained with her blood, and blushed pink from the force of his kiss. Like a ravenous beast he dug in, tasting her, pinning her down under his grasp, as he brushed his lips over hers again, down her jawline, and down to the heat of her neck. Breathing in her scent, tasting her, letting his hand wander precociously over her body, and edging their way to her thighs.

She pulled away gasping and nipping back at him. Tenderly kissing him under his jaw and nipping at the base of his neck. She craned her head back, and looked at their son, as Jon began trailing kisses down her chest. She grasped his hair gently, entangling her fingers in his curls and tugged at his roots to pull him back up to her.

“Jon…we can’t” but her eyes were dark with want, the flecks of sky in them entirely lost behind her enlarged pupils.

“Dany…” he begged as he was now extremely aware of how much he yearned for her within the confines of his clothes

She shook her head. He was torn, eventually pulling his hand away from her thigh, and bringing them back up to her side. He traced the delicate lace that covered her small frame, and up toward her collarbone. She raised her thigh unconsciously, letting her dress scrunch up enough to reveal a portion of her well-shaped inner thighs. His eyes grew inky at the sight, and a low growl emitted from him as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her neck, as he leaned in to nip it once more.

His emotions swirled around inside of him, resentment, anger, sadness, but he put on a face to that one of detachment. Numbly he sat up and adjusted himself and smoothed his hair back as he stood up. He turned his feet into the direction of the door. She was not looking at him but staring down toward the edge of the bed. Her eyes were closed shut desperately trying to hold back her emotions.

“I’m sorry" Jon rasped out 

But just before he turned and fled from her room. He heard her trembling voice.

“I love you too Jon...” She opened her eyes to look up at him. She spoke the truth, he could see it. She got up from the bed and walked to pick up Joreah from his cot.

She picked him up to pepper his face with sweet kisses, brushing his little hair back. All the while he cooed and ran his little finger across his mother’s face. He was as equally entranced to his mother, as Jon was.

“But lest not forget we have a child”

Jon turned back from where he stood, and cautiously neared mother and child. Both turning to look at him, their lilac colored eyes inviting him to reach out and hold them closely in an embrace. He complied, and his heart beat faster than it had ever done in the entirety of his life.


	43. Daenerys XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter with insights on what Daenerys is feeling.

There was a pang inside her stomach. It seemed unfair that no matter how much she strived to be the woman her conscience wanted to be, her mind would keep taunting her with her heart’s failures. With each beating thrust inside her chest the regrets reemerged and she would diligently analyze them again, hoping that this time her mind would be satisfied with his self-professed remorse, but it never was. It was an unforgivable act what he had done and her self-hatred for forgiving him would be back tomorrow to haunt her all over again, it would flop around inside like a fish gasping for breath on land.

She loved him, she couldn't deny it. The feelings she had for him were inescapable, no matter how hard she tried to put the logistics onto the table. He had murdered her. But every time she looked into his eyes, her stomach would flutter, and her chest would tighten at the thought of him. She felt as his arms wrapped tightly around them. Her thoughts stopped as if her heart took over from her head when they were close.

She felt Jon squeeze as if he needed to check that she was really there with him, really there and really real... and she was, living and breathing with her once wounded heart now beating again inside her body. She wondered if anyone else had ever felt the way she did about being in his arms. She felt a sudden tinge of jealousy. Had they loved this much and lived, because that pain stilled killed her inside. It was a soft and slow reminder with every warm moment in his arms. She knew it would never disappear, the distrust she had in him.

She pulled away, refusing to look into his eyes lest she fall into his arms again. She could feel him tense, and try to pull her back in. She didn't, not even with the battle her heart put out.

"Jon... I'm just not ready" nor did she think she ever fully would be. But she could still taste him on her lips, and the tingling sensation that had trickled down between her thighs came rushing back. 

She handed him their son. He was the one being that was fully safe in this man's arms. For no matter how much death, blood and betrayals lay upon them, the child was a part of him that no betrayal would ever consume.

Jon took the child tightly into his arms, craning his head down to nuzzle his son. There was a burst of laughter from the babe as his father's beard tickled his soft skin. It warmed her to see this image, wishing it had been during a time when their love had not been tainted. She felt her throat tighten at the memories of those times.

"Gods Dany...I will never forgive myself" his eyes were glued to the violet of his sons. 

She knew Jon would be forever tormented with the knowledge of not only taking her life, but that of his sons. If the red god had never brought her back, their souls would have been lost to his world. It was a choice he had been willing to make. Repulsion filled her mind again, and a sudden sickness filled the cabin air.

"I know" her voice was stifled with resentment. She saw him sense it. 

He looked back up into her eyes and tried to handed their child back. But she shook her head, letting him hold him a little longer.

"I need some time alone...take him to get some fresh air" she guided Jon out her cabin door. He looked confused. 

Torgo Nudho waited patiently outside of the cabin door. He glared at Jon, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Your grace?" the man barely made an effort to look away from Jon.

"Would you please make sure Lord Aegon has free range of the galley? I am needing a bath and Joreah needs a breath of fresh air" Torgo Nudho nodded and turned to face Jon, who only looked at Dany and then to their child. She saw him take a deep breath, trying to hold back whatever it was that he wanted to say.

She turned her attention back to Jon. In his eyes she could see he was confused at her sudden detachment. She had made him feel like they had finally reached the end of their road, but she could not feign to be complacent to his actions. He could only look at her to tell that she would feel better alone in the meantime. Inside she knew that feeling came out the most when she felt in a vulnerable place, and that only seemed to happen when she was around Jon. He took a tentative step away, looking back at her and then carrying on towards the main deck. She closed the door. They were a mess, she knew it.

* * *

 

She sat in silence in the metal tub that had been brought into the cabin. She needed to clear her mind, start fresh and think of what it was she truly wanted. Jon.

In every way, she yearned for him, but she couldn't find a way to get past the betrayal. She swirled the dense water with her fingers. Salt water had been brought up with wooden buckets and warmed with the fires burning in the galley’s kitchen. A small small bucket was placed next to the the hammered copper tub. In it was fresh water from the desalination barrels that her galley carried. 

She smiled to herself, thankful Tyrion had once mentioned to her reading about a way to desalinate water the ways Valerians used to do. She had gifted him a set of books that had many secrets from the ways of old Valyria but had never found time to read them herself. She wondered if she would ever get her hands on them again. Daenerys reminisced the times when she sat in listening as Tyrion read out loud to her during their travels. She knew he would provide himself useful in these lands. Hence she hadn't found it in her to kill him just yet. Though there was the other reason. It would be a hypocrisy to only kill him, and not the man who wielded the dagger.

Daenerys scrubbed at her body with a rough sea sponge. She had rubbed the sponge around a small handmade brick that created a foamy lather. It was made of ashes, cypress extracts, lavender and olive oil from the older olive orchard that had survived in Meereen. 

She thought back to the times her skin had been scrubbed clean using oils, white sand and a small curved blade that would scrape off dirt and sweat. That was a time where not even Missandei had existed. It seemed so long ago now.

It was only Irri, Jhiqui, Doreah and Jorah then. They had taught her how to service and survive Drogo and the Dothraki. In turn, it had begun a trickle effect that would lead her to where she was now. 

Daenerys diligently washed each part of her body, preferring the more delicate approach that this sponge and brick offered. No longer wanting a handmaiden to help her, she scrubbed behind her neck. She could feel the tense knots that had accumulated in that area. Then she turned her attention to her chest and arms, that had now turned a golden hue from the sun. Mindfully, she avoided the silvered scar right below her sternum and raised her leg out of the water to lathered it up instead. 

She scrubbed hard trying to get her mind off of her scar, not wanting to think of what event had placed it there right now. She just needed to clear her head and figure out which way she would go forward with now. The sponge passed between her legs and sent a shiver up her spine.

It had been a long time since she had any physical interaction with a man, even with Daarios persistence, she could no longer find a way to detach herself emotionally from the act. With Drogo she had learned to look past the brutality of his act and learned to find pleasure in the pain. It was survival what she had learned with Drogo. Primal urges placated through a physical act. One where her barely pubescent had to learn to endure.

It was different with Daario and Jon. She had made the choice, as her body yearned for the act. But she could no longer comfortably place herself in that vulnerable position with any man.

She knew she had driven Daario mad, and that he had now been sneaking some woman in at night to relieve himself from his own urges. It went against his nature, but who could blame a man and his needs. Especially when he was not allowed to smite the one who had caused his frustrations. 

She cared for him, she could not deny it, not even to him…but it wasn’t the same love that persisted even through Jon’s most horrific offense. This was not something she could control. The lust, the yearning, hatred, and disgust for a man she could not stop thinking about was all wrapped up in a messy bundle that she knew was caused by her need for Jon. Her body did not react to Daario the same way, even if she knew it would be the safer choice.

She brushed the same spot lightly again as the recent interaction with Jon stirred in her mind. She licked at her lips again, remembering the salty taste of his neck. The way he had placed her so gently on her bed, and how his firm hold gripped at the dip of her waist. She let the sponge go and watched as it floated up to the sudsy top of the basin. The gentle rock of the ship began to lull her into a state of tranquility.

The rocking mimicked the same gentle motions she had felt when Jon took her. Unlike Drogo, Hizdhar and Daario, their worlds became one, and the pleasure she felt burst through her with tears of joy instead of pain, disgust and need.

Subconsciously she snuck her hand between her thighs and felt the slickness of her arousal. It was silky compared to the water that surrounded her, and she could feel it trail with her movements. 

Her body trembled. She had not allowed herself a moment of pleasure since...well since Jon had told her what they were. She snapped her hand back out and away from her sensitivity. She had once again let her mind wander itself into an emotional knot Lust. Disgust. Resentment. 

Not by their familiarity. That was something she had come to expect as a Targaryen. She was disgusted at the thought of what those words had caused, disgusted by her yearning of him, and resenting her own betrayal from her heart. She rose from her basin and used the smaller bucket of fresh cool water to rinse herself.

After she finished applying oil to her body, she went out to look for her child. As she walked the main deck, she could see the tops of lush green trees of an impenetrable forest. Going through the river was like going back to the earliest beginnings of the world, where vegetation rioted, and the big trees were kings. She watched as a familiar stone structure released a steaming waterfall into the dark green waters. The first sign of man.

                                                                                      

The air was thick, heavy sluggish, causing her gown to stick to her skin. She pulled on the thin fabric, thankful it fell loosely on her body. 

The long stretches of water ran on, deserted, in the gloom of the overshadowed distances. She looked up into the red sky. The sun was fierce through the red sky, and the land seemed to glisten and drip with steam. 

Her skin seemed to seek the breeze the same way it did in the arid lands of Vaes Dothrak. She rubbed her hand over her hot skin, finding herself bewitched with the landscape as the ship trudged silently along. 

There was a moment when the overwhelming reality of this strange world of plants, water, and silence did not in the least resemble peace. It was loud inside her head even in its current stillness of life. It was an implacable force brooding over an impenetrable purpose. It looked at her with a vengeful aspect. She could never get used to it, the silence.

"Dany?" Jon's voice cut through the loud silence. 

She blinked, somehow forgetting she had come out to look for them. Nestled in his arms was their sleeping child. They seemed content sitting on a barrel located on the starboard side of the ship. The warm breeze caressed their curls as her own fingers would have done. It was moments like this that she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around the man and press her lips against his, and though she had given in to him she could not stop the inner battle between her heart and her mind.

"The rocking of the ship puts him to sleep" Daenerys neared Jon and ran her fingers across her son's head. He barely stirred.  
  
"aye.." Jon handed their child back, being careful not to wake the sleeping babe.

"were almost there" he told her as she placed Joreah's head on her shoulder. He was getting heavier, and even more so when he slept. She looked up from where she stood, noticing pillars that jutted out through the canopy tops. Some still had their topless towers visible from where they stood.

Daenerys watched as Drogon soared above them. The enormous beast was miniscule in size compared to the stone structures. His screech pierced the sky, and a swirling cloud of flapping wings arose from the tree line.

"He’s always known where I need to go..." she looked at her son flying solo in the skies. He was the stallion who would mount the world. She cleared her throat, knowing he had also flown her to Volantis to bring his mother back to his side. Daenerys began to make her way back to her cabin to lay her son down in his cot.

“Bran…he knew you I would find you” his voice seemed to echo in the silence, but she didn't turn to look back at him.

“did he send you?” she slightly moved her head but did not make contact with Jon.

“he didn’t tell me you where here… he said Id find a reason to live” she heard his throat swallow a lump

“I wasn’t ready to be found…” She wanted nothing to do with Westeros, but she knew it was unavoidable to have such an empire in Essos and not be sought after by the greed of those lands.

"I will wait for however long it takes Dany, I promise you I'm changing" she was not ready.

  
"I just need..."

"...A little time to show you I'm worth it?" he interrupted. She could only nod her head. When Jon spoke those words, a stinging pain crossed her heart. A reminder that though she loved him the trust she once had was severed. Jon once had been worth everything. Her armies, her reputation, the throne and even her sons, but words were just air she had come to find out.

“Jon..when you came into my cabin, you asked me to not let you feel like you where going crazy. I once had wanted the same from you”

He began to open his mouth to talk, but she raised her finger to silence him.

“You know I love you. I always will Jon. I want you more than I would want to admit…but like I said…We have a child and I cannot let my heart risk endangering our son”  
  
“I promise you Dany…I will never allow harm to come your way again”

“give it time Jon…don’t let me feel crazy for accepting you back in my life” she could feel her lips barley twitch with a faint smile. She wanted to believe him, but life had soured her trust.

“I understand” He stood up and pulled her in, lightly pressing his lips against her brow. She let him.

* * *

 

  
Daenerys was awoken when she felt the lurch of the ship. Next to her lay the small prince, unmoved by the sudden movement and shouts from outside the door. They had finally arrived.

  
She stretched her body and ran her fingers through her hair. The soft waves falling freely from her head had finally placated from the humidity that surrounded them. Dany pulled a thin linen sheet over her sleeping child and nuzzled a kiss into his warm cheeks.

She had been avoiding being alone with Jon as much as possible. He would come and spend time with his son, but she would make sure to use that time for herself. Every so often her heart would win, and she would allow him close enough to hold her in his arms, until vivid memories would cross her mind and she would have to pull away.

She pulled on loose flowing blouse and lambskin leather britches. Her hands rubbed across the napped leather, while tracing her fingers on the cross-stitch work that closed the seams together, and finally swung a loose leather satchel that went across her body. Daenerys went to the chest that held the dragon eggs. _Don't forget who you are._ Carefully, her hands wrapped around the warm stone eggs and placed them inside her satchel. It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been very busy this week but thought I could provide an insight on Dany and how things are just a jumble of emotions inside of her head.


	44. Tyrion XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I have been a bit rusty and had been promising the Tyrion Chapters where ending. Hope this is good enough, as I was at a standstill not knowing how i should word it. I mean I had it in my head, but couldn't get it out. Anyways, I hope you enjoy his last chapter.

Tyrion had been watching as Daenerys had buried the eggs back where Jon had found them. She had sat quietly waiting for any form of movement, or indication that the life within them still existed. He watched as she lit a fire back around the nest, and how she sliced her hand with a knife to draw blood out and onto the eggs. It had now been a little over a fortnight, and she continued to patiently tend to the eggs.

Tyrion watched as the black beast landed next to her, nudging her with his enormous snout. He took a sip of water as he watched her from afar. It was not sweet like most fresh water as it was the desalinated sea water and had a tint of a metallic taste to it. He swirled it around his mouth before taking another gulp.

He had done plenty of thinking during his time in these lands. The unsullied had mapped as much as they could of the remaining buildings, rivers, and notable landmarks that lay across the land. Here and there they would encounter a Stoneman but would immediately put him out of his misery. Eventually a small pile of freshly charred bodies adorned the rest of the hundreds that encircled the eggs. It was a quick death for them, better than what their fate would have awaited as their disease had progressed further than what the cure could safely.

A sudden rush of strong wind moved his body as he watched the dragon lift back into the skies. The beast had grown so large the once red sky disappeared behind his black shimmering scales. Daenerys didn't move, she only looked up into the skies as her son flew away revealing the sky once more. Tyrion could see her shoulders slouch in disappointment as she turned her attention back to the nest. Tyrion drummed his fingers against the copper mug he held in his hands. _What had she done differently the first time she hatched her eggs._

He had heard enough stories throughout the years to pick the recurring truths from each one.  
She was gifted the eggs. From where? only Magister Illyrio would know, but he was at no position to question the man. Though it was safe to say they were of a time older than him, his father or his father before him.

Then her husband gets a chest wound that caused him to become a shell of his former self. From what Tyrion had understood, Daenerys was heavy with child at that point. The stallion who would mount the world they said. Tyrion tried to recall what happened after.

 _Was it that the Khal died and she tried to bring him back?_ no

He had become nothing more than a warm corpse after his wound had festered and he broke into a fever. _The magis curse_ the Dothraki said. Jorah had told him how during the ritual that Mirri Maz Durr performed, Daenerys began to experience a crippling pain. In his panic and against her wishes he took her inside the tent so the witch could care for her. The man never forgave himself, he said he never had believed in magic. not until that day. By then it was too late, and she lost the once strong life within her. _Blood Magic they all said_

Tyrion took another sip of his water wishing it was something of a stronger nature. Now from what he understood Daenerys paid for her husband's life with the one of her her unborn child, even if it was against her will or not. In return she ended up with a comatose Khal and when she saw that her son's life had only bought a warm corpse and nothing more, she snuffed the lingering life within the Khal. It was a Mercy killing.

Here was the part that Tyrion ran through his mind as he tried to piece together everything that had transpired. Daenerys in rage had a pyre made for the Khal. The witch in turn was bound to the Pyre and burned alive while Daenerys walked into the flames. Jorah stayed beside the Pyre awaiting what he thought was ultimately her last moments alive. He had told Tyrion that in Daenerys state of grieving she told him she must walk into the fire, but he only thought her ready to give up on life. Instead she managed a feat that had been lost to the ages. The birth of Dragons.

He looked across the camp and down into the field where Daenerys still stood. She looked defeated, tired and everything but her usual representation of a Dragon. In her arms now was the child, who only stared off into the middle of the burning pit. He reached for the flames. Pawing at the air trying to grasp something that was not within his reach. As he stood there in a trance he recalled how Jon had acted before he found the eggs. He was like a hound after scent, searching, clawing at something none else could see.

Tyrion paced the ground. He knew what needed to be done.

* * *

“And this is what you want me to do?” Daenerys raised her eyebrow at him, unsure if she heard him correctly.

“Unfortunately it is now a conclusion I have come to draw”

His heart sank deep within his chest. Once he had pondered the many different ways to make sure his life would always prosper, now his own will to live seemed to teeter on past memories and hopes for child who was meant to be.

He saw her tap her finger on her knee as she had been squatting down near the nest. Slowly she rose from her position and looked up into the sky. He could see her take a deep breath and close her eyes as she tried to comprehend what he had been proposing to her. She exhaled and took a few steps away but returned with fire burning in her eyes.

“You suppose I would just incinerate you? To end your punishment? one more life to add to my tally?”

Tyrion had not thought about it that way. He had supposed she wanted him dead long ago, always pondering why she let him live. If the child had not been born, he had wondered if Jon would have been granted the same treatment. He thought of Jaime and Cersei, in the end he still went back to her after she had paid for his head, matters of the heart were never as cut and dry as they could be. It had not crossed his mind that she was still haunted by what she had done. In that moment it had become apparent to him that unlike Cersei, it had affected her.

"Is this why you do not use dragon fire on your criminals?"

"I believe there are other alternatives for crimes" she said in a matter of fact

This was true. Her prisoners provided work for the cities without being considered slaves. They could even choose to risk fighting their way out in the pits if they felt lucky enough, many never did and for the winners, well they had enough coin to grant them a way for better living.

"...even so, I've known you long enough to know that is not the only reason" He watched her carefully. Anyone else may have just seen amethyst eyes on an expressionless face looking back at them, but he saw the fire that burned deep within them, giving them a shimmer as if they were jewels themselves. She said nothing.

"It seems absurd of me to ask you to trust me, but I must insist that you do. You see once I had told you that there was more to the world than Westeros, and I still firmly believe there is, but it was always your destiny to leave it behind as it was your destiny to bring dragons back to the living world"

He took a risk and grabbed her hands tightly between his. She tried to pull away but not enough that she would break away. Uncomfortable as she was, she allowed him to grip at her hands. Her guards had almost speared him alive but held back as she made no movement of being threatened. They pulled slightly back but held their stance for attack.

"I have no hidden purpose to propose what I am, but If what little faith you may still have in my knowledge, trust when I say I have nothing left to gain...nut this is what must be done"

He could tell she had listened to him, mentally digesting what he offered her in knowledge.

"you may take him" was all she answered, not giving him any sense if she had considered his offer.

He released her hands as he still looked into her eyes trying to gather any lingering thoughts that may have been hiding behind the flickering flames. Nothing. Her guards came and shoved their spears into his direction, prompting him to move away and head back to his area.

* * *

Days had seemed to pass again. The blood red skies were continuous and if he hadn't noticed the naturally bruising of its colors, there would be no natural delineation between day and night. Now there was a feeling that accompanied him when the wind picked up and the weather got worse that some potential disaster wasn’t far away. When they would be trying to put a tent up in the strong warm winds, he knew if he let go of the canvas it would blow away, and he would have lost his shelter. Even if the air was warm and he could sleep outside, the creatures that lived within the lush green foliage loved the scent of the hot red rivers that ran inside his skin.

Then there were days when he had moments of fear, and to deal with that, he had to fall back on experience. Invariably, he would realize he'd seen it before _I have crossed many crevasses, been through many storms_ so deep down he had this belief that it would be all right.

In some ways, his life's expedition was purely a result of the many calculations he had made throughout it. Now his thoughts where only of the number of days of food left, the miles they still had left to go, and the average speed of progress so far. What was hard about the decision was that he wasn’t struggling. He was in good condition and good health, but she was six or seven days behind the schedule she had set. Perhaps if they pushed themselves to complete exhaustion every single day for two weeks with the current ill weather, then, yes, in theory their punishment would have been executed. But he found he didn’t have the appetite for risk, that burning desire to push himself to complete self-destruction, that he once had earlier in life. He thought a big part of that was the precedent of Daenerys's demise almost two years ago. Before he even set foot on the snow, he had decided that getting home in one piece was the most important goal, anything beyond that was a bonus.

Coming back from any expedition was a journey in itself. A peculiar decompression process, like an oyster farmer slowly returning to the surface in stages. You experience things like a warm bath, drinks that come from fancy flagons, fires that warm you that comes from within a wall, and milk that hasn’t turned rancid with age, things that were distant dreams on your journeys.

He marveled at each new uncovered layer of a lost civilization, until the sound of voices transformed them back to their current state that spoiled his thoughts. He was still a soft, pampered royal whose once only thoughts where when he could have Arbor Gold or fresh bread rolls, or fresh linens and silks delivered to his door by a perfumed handmaid at the ring of a bell . When lost in those moments, he had zero desire to put on his moth-eaten clothes and soggy boots to journey across Valyria; he felt really content with what they had achieved in this lost world. But he remembered that this was not his purpose, and he no longer had a home. So, he had placed his tunic over his head and pulled on his boots.

"not today, her grace give you back your things"

Tyrion was presented with his fine doublet and britches. On Top lay his custom-made leather boots and jewelry he had once travelled with. He took the stack of his personal belongings and felt a sudden sense of sadness fill his heart.

* * *

 

 

"and there's nothing else?"

"nothing but darkness" Jon replied

Tyrion took a deep breath. The strong scent of sulfur and ash flowed into his lungs. He had known it came for everyone, at some point or another the god of death would always have his fill. He opened his eyes to look around him. Just as everyone is born and lives…all of us die. And he thought it loosely…as truthfully as he could think as he had been proven otherwise with the dying. He has once wished the Dothrakis idea of your physical body in this realm or plane of existence dies, and that your soul, or the thing that makes you..you….moves on to its eternal life. And that was truth. That was really is exciting. No more pain and suffering. Death here was really the next step to an unbelievable existence. It was just something we all had to do.

But what Jon and Daenerys had concluded was scary. This unknown was scary. It had to be. If it wasn't scary, then there wouldn't be anything holding them here…but the understanding that the Gods had a reason for them being here. They want and need them here until they were ready for them to come home. He still hoped that they never got to see the nightlands or become one with the trees because they gods were not with them. His sister once had said _"the gods have no mercy..that's why they are gods"_ he thought about Daenerys and Subsequently Jon.

He tried to accept that all that really happened was the Gods had bought him time. It didn't change anything. They were all headed there. Once he accepted that you can't change your fate, death had a sunny side. You get to make amends if there are any to make. You get to do something you have always wanted to do, but just couldn't justify being selfish enough to do it. Regardless of what he was trying to reassure himself of, it didn't make it any less scary. He just focused on trying to keep his mind occupied. That's it..that simple…what did he have to lose.

"Have you ever really thought about the world we live in, and really think about how everything has a purpose, and everything seems to have a symbiotic relationship with everything else…and that nature stays balanced and harmonious"

"Yes." Jon replied trying to brush aside Tyrion's nervousness

"What's easier to believe? That everything works so well because it was, “designed this way", or that everything is all the result of a random event in the form of a massive cracked egg and it all just happened to work so well out of total random chaos?"

"Just because you did not see something, doesn't mean it didn't happen"

Tyrion felt weights at his legs. He couldn't move. Surrounding him a partially unconscious Stoneman was placed at the base of an unlit Pyre.

"I am truly sorry that you are going through what you are going through" he heard Jon say as he finished locking him to the other side of the pyres base.

".…I have accepted that was is to come, and now I await the best that hasn't even happened yet"

Jon looked up from his crouched position tying Tyrion's wrist to his front. He could see in his eyes a feeling of helplessness as he placed the eggs infront of him.

"It is my destiny Jon. You will be okay. Now and always, that is yours"

Jon got up and held him tightly at his shoulders. He turned around to leave, stopping mid was and turning his head slightly almost wanting to look back but afraid doing so would change his mind.

He didn't hear anything else but the silence that came with the heat. It was welcoming at first, but quickly turned into a pain so great there was no words to describe what he felt. He could hear the Stoneman wrestle in his confines, but not fully conscious of what was transpiring. He heard the popping and cracking of the timber that held the pyre together. Tyrion opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

The flames quickly licked at his lips and made their blistering way down into his lungs. Time seemed to slow down, and he could see as the flames danced around him and above him, swaying in arithmetical movements that hissed and crackled with each orange and gold sway. He was entranced, and the pain disappeared as the darkness began to close in around him. He felt a pop, and the darkness consumed him.

* * *

"are you awake?" a small hand patted him on his side.

He opened his eyes. The child smiled so wide that his violet eyes creased at their corners and his warm hands brushed him at the bridge of his nose. He wanted to let the child know he needed more sleep, that his dream had shaken him to his core, but nothing came out, nothing but a wisp of hot air and a grumble in his throat. It felt so real.

"Wake up Artyrion" The child's warm hands brushed him again

So, he pushed himself up stretching his bones from being curled in a ball. He felt his wings spread open and tested them lightly while around the child. His child, his human the one he was born to protect.


	45. Gendry I

“M’lord, a ship has arrived from the east”

Gendry stood from a stone bench that overlooked the harbor from afar, as he had been admiring the recent work in reconstruction of the port side of the city. He couldn’t see him, but he knew Ghost was probably already waiting attentively for its passengers to disembark. He had been patiently waiting ever since the day Jon left. It always amused Gendry to know that no one would see the creature until a ship would break through the horizon to make port.

“Not our ships?”

His help shook his head. Gendry took a deep breath awaiting some form of ill message alerting him of Jon’s fate. He paced the area wishing of nothing more than to have someone there with him that understood the weight of responsibility that had been entrusted to him. He somewhat had begun to understand Jon’s frustration at being made King and quickly giving it away, and Aryas repulsion to be a lady, far less a queen.

Since Jon's departure, he had been thrust into a world of hectic stress. He would issue commands, that were noted down by assigned clerks. Or he might administer and while this task was normally delegated to the hand it was Gendry who had to hear cases in person since there was no hand to delegate too. There where petitions and appeals and requests for him to grant them a favor or use his power on their behalf.

His Master of coin, well there was none, so tolls, rents and incomes of the kingdom had taken most of his time. He was grateful that Ser Podrick had spent enough time along nobility to help him through much of this process. It was overwhelming, but without any wars to burden them, it helped him focus on the other topics.

If he had no official business to conduct that day, he spent the days learning to read and write. Any other king might instead go hunting boar with various of his guests, but it seemed it was not in the favor of Baratheon men, so he stayed clear of that, opting to spend his time getting to know literature instead. He noticed his once black calloused hands, had begun to soften and regain their pink coloring from when he was only a boy of ten.

* * *

From behind the door that separated the entrance to the hall, the sound of heavy footsteps came closer until they burst through the door ushering with them a stocky man with a wiry Grey beard that was unkempt from days at sea.

“Captain Issaro from Essos says he carries message to be seen by the Lord Regent only” one of the guards took a step back and let the captain search his sleeves for a rolled parchment. He handed it to Gendry and took a step back.

“I was given these two moons ago in Dragons Bay your grace” Captain Issaro swallowed his nervousness as he spoke.

“Hmm” Gendry brushed off the formalities, he was still unaccustomed to hear anything other than his name being used to address him in a non-derogatory way. Essos, he had not seen any ships coming from the east now for three moons. 

He inspected the rolled parchment. It had seen damage from moisture during its travels, but the red seal that held the roll together was intact. He ran his fingers across the wax dragon sigil as the heat around him began to rise. He felt his skin prickle with thoughts that Jon was indeed alive, and he quickly tore apart the seal. He made his way to the seat that stood at the end of the hall as he began to read the fine penmanship that made up the letter. He had begun to learn to distinguish letters from handwriting such as this, but it still was difficult for someone who had not been taught to read as a child.

_Lord Baratheon_

_I fear that this may come too late and the life of my kin may have been ended as I had once asked of you. If my fears are wrong, and you have spared his life for knowledge of my outcome, I ask of you to send word for his release, for all he has said has come to fruit. Though, I must come and ask of you once more, to continue in my absence as lord protector. It’s not for lands I have come to love, for they have hosted me with an unbearable heat. But for their gods granting me the opportunity to have the lives I once took, back. …  
_  
Gendry finished reading a few more lines and rolled the parchment back up tightly, and lightly using it to tap it on his palm. 

“Captain Issaro, I will need to you keep the origins of this letter yourself. We will sup after you’ve had a bath drawn and clean clothing provided from your voyage at sea. We will discuss a few things relating transport of a prized possession of the King”

“Excuse me my lord, but what King?”

“The same one that has given you this letter” Gendry looked at him perplexed for asking such an obvious question without need.

“Ser, the letter was given to me directly by the Queen herself. I’m one of the few captains that deals in matters of Westerosi in her behest”

“Queen?” Gendry took a step back near the man pausing to gather the words he had just heard

“The only one From the Bone Mountains to the Narrow sea”

“Small woman, hair of silver?” His facial expression stayed illegible to the rest of the men around them, but he was shocked to hear of such person.

The captain Nodded “Da..

“No need captain, I know the titles and it will take a Sen night to hear them through” he let out a small chuckle

“Well then we will discuss transport for something her grace will know exactly whom to give to after supper” Gendry made his way out of the hall after that leaving the captain to be escorted to his temporary quarters. 

If not for what he had experienced with the red woman, he would be quick to disbelieve what he had heard from the sea farer. He would have blamed it on days in the open ocean with nothing but saltwater to quench his throat from the scorching sun above. He was more perplexed that she had not incinerated Jon at first sight.

He unrolled the scroll once more. He read it over again “the lives they have granted me back” Jon never struck him as a man who’d make grammatical errors. Daenerys was the only one he knew that Jon had taken life from, well the only one he’d have any emotional attachment to. He thought about Brans comment when he visited him in the sky cells. 

“It was for love” he said to himself out loud.  When first told, he thought Bran spoke about what Jon had done. He did it for the love of his family, his lands and the kingdoms within them. Now he understood, it was Bran who hurt the people he loved for a greater good. A child once thought unattainable by two people cursed. Jon had to die to break his vow to the nights watch, and Daenerys, well he was not sure how she had been cursed but she had been, and it was to be as barren as the lands that had made her who she was.

Gendry walked out to the harbor and looked out into the Far East. He put the scroll away and took a deep breath. What was west of Westeros? He did not know an answer for Arya, nor could countless others. Bran had most likely known, but as Gendry knew now, he probably saw something that she needed to find herself. There was still hope he thought. 

* * *

“You will take him to her Grace”

“I still do not think it wise my lord”

“The only thing unwise here is leaving without the cargo”

“My crew will feel unsafe, how can I assure them a safe voyage if I myself feel unease?”

“No harm will come to pass to those on your crew, so far as none try anything that would cost them their lives”

The captain nodded his head nervously as a crate was being boarded unto the ship.

“There’s enough there to last the passage. Should something happen to him or he gets lost, then you should become concerned for your safety” Gendry reminded him as he handed him a sealed scroll. 

“To our Queen” he told him as the captain took the rolled parchment and placed it within his sleeve.

Issaro made his way back on to his galley as he released his held breath. Bright purple sails billowed with the chilly breeze above him. The cog had traveled under the guise of a merchant vessel from Bravos. Yet those who knew, not a single reputable merchant from those lands had come through in many moons, much less one with such blatant display of origin.

He watched the ship disappear into the horizon, and sudden thoughts filled his mind. With nothing left for Jon to return too, would he? He suspected not. He tried shaking those thoughts off, but the wind blew around him and through the trees that lined the coast. There was no wolf now, and Gendry felt a sudden rush of loneliness swarm his body. He understood what it felt like to wait for the one you love, never knowing if they would come back, why not grant him that peace he sought out for.


End file.
